


Cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my soul

by SunOfMidnight



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective!Will, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunOfMidnight/pseuds/SunOfMidnight
Summary: The high school AU nobody asked for, wherein Santiago will eventually become Pope, Will is as stubborn as he is pretty, Frankie is done with everyone's shit, Tom is the school's Golden Boy, and Benny just...kinda does his thing





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so here goes nothing...  
> Nobody asked for this and I don't think many people are going to read this, but the concept wouldn't leave my mind so I wrote it anyway :) I've got most of this already written and will update the tags along the way, so please check them out for trigger warnings and stuff.  
> Chapters will probably go up weekly, if anyone's interested, and I hope you enjoy reading because I loved writing this!  
> Comments and/or kudos are appreciated as always, if you've got the time :)
> 
> Title is from Bruce Springsteen's "I'm on fire", which I absolutely _adore_
> 
> Usual disclaimer: This is a work of purely speculative fiction. It is not intended to infringe on any rights by and of the companies and/or individuals involved in the production of the movie mentioned here.

At first, senior year promises to be just like the rest of high school. Santiago keeps his eyes on the dirty floor he’s currently dragging his feet over on his way to the back of the classroom, and it’s only when he looks up that he realizes his spot by the window is occupied by a boy with wild, dirty blonde hair. He has his eyes trained on where he’s digging his fingernails into the rough surface of the desk, where generations of students have worn down the material with various tools before him. Santiago can’t see much of his face apart from long lashes and a faint shadow of stubble, but even seated this boy looks huge. He has broad shoulders and the cut-off arms of his dark shirt reveal long, muscled arms, and his long legs seem to fit only barely under the desk.

Santiago wonders briefly, if he might be taller than Tom, but the boy starts lifting his head and Santiago would really like to get through this day without any confrontation, so he spins around hastily and almost falls over his own feet as he rushes to the other corner of the classroom. As he sits down he can feel eyes on him, but he stares at the dirt under his fingernails as hard as he can, while hoping his skin colour disguises the heat he can feel rising in his cheeks.

 

The boy’s name is Will Miller and he’s from Idaho and Santiago was right, he _is_ tall (not as tall as Tom, though). He doesn’t really introduce himself when Ms Birch asks him to, just raises two fingers and drags his eyes up from his desk as if it’s the biggest inconvenience to happen to him in forever.

“Hey”, he says and his voice is slow and deep and sort of raspy (not unlike Tom’s voice but different…smoother, somehow). When Ms Birch asks him to tell them about himself, he stares at her for a long moment and Santiago is almost sure he’s supressing a long-suffering sigh. “Hi. My mother wanted a change of scenery. So we moved here.”

Ms Birch arches one eyebrow but doesn’t press him any further, sensing she won’t get much more out of him. “Well, we hope you will adjust well to the ‘change of scenery’ and wish you the best of luck in this last year of high school.” Then she launches into a speech about why this year is extremely important and the choice of college and all that good shit. Santiago tunes her out and goes back to scratching the dirt from under his fingernails until she asks them to take out their books.

While scribbling down his notes, he feels eyes on him again. He waits for the tell-tale snickering, or maybe giggling from Jessica and her posse (he just really hopes it won’t be Yovanna, she hasn’t laughed at him once and he likes when she smiles at him in the hallway). When nothing comes he peers up from under his eyelashes and scans the room, but all heads are pointed forward (apart from Grant and Haley, who are unsubtly staring at each other wistfully, as they’ve been doing since freshman year). Santiago frowns and tries to concentrate back on writing down what Ms Birch is talking about, when he notices the new boy, Will, looking at him. For a second Santiago can do nothing but stare back because…wow, he’s pretty. His sharp jaw shows traces of stubble, matching his dirty blonde hair, and he has really high cheekbones and the iciest grey-blue eyes Santiago has ever seen. There is also a faint dark shadow right under his left eye, the side of his face that’s been turned away from Santiago until now. He’s seen his share of fading bruises and, damn, that used to be one hell of a shiner.

The boy blinks slowly in response to Santiago’s inquiring stare and he expects a sneer or a smirk or anything, really, but his face stays completely blank. Santiago feels a shiver run down his spine and he averts his eyes quickly, ducks down even deeper over his desk and keeps his eyes firmly on the paper until he hears the bell ring. When he looks up, half the class is already gone and he’s going to be late for his next class but at least _he’s_ gone.

 

The day goes by fairly well. He only stumbles into a locker once and that shove might’ve been an accident. The last period is AP Spanish, where he finds Tom, who greets him with a smile and a clap on the back. Santiago is a little late, though, so the only spot left in the room is fairly far away from Tom. As he sits down, he accidentally jostles the desk next to him and the person slumped over it glares at him. It’s the Morales kid, Frankie, Santiago remembers, and he swallows and blinks at him apologetically. Frankie is…well, he’s not mean, per se, not to Santiago at least, but he’s not nice either. He’s not nice in general and from what Santiago can tell, Frankie’s default state seems to just be ‘fuck off’ and his eye-roll is the stuff of legends. He’s also kind of a genius, which annoys most teachers to no end. Frankie is…well, he’s cool is what he is.

But right now, he doesn’t roll his eyes at Santiago for clumsily interrupting his nap. He rubs his eyes with a sigh and his hair is an absolute mess, and not even in an ‘effortlessly cool’ way. Frankie looks like a startled pigeon and if Santiago hadn’t seen him beat up two of Lorea’s boys in freshman year, he wouldn’t believe this was the same Frankie (okay, so Santiago admires the boy a little, so what?).

When Mr Nelson enters the classroom, a familiar head of spiky hair shuffles after him and Santiago is glad he didn’t cut his hair yet, because now he can mostly hide his eyes and nobody can see the way he takes way too long to look away from the boy.

“Sit”, Mr Nelson says to Will without looking up from where he’s taking his books out of his bag. Will buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans and he really is tall, all long limbs and Santiago is a little jealous of how still the boy holds himself. If Santiago had arms and legs as long as Will, they would be gracelessly flopping about at all times, like some sort of pathetic, flightless bird.

“Mr Miller”, Mr Nelson addresses him again and lifts his head to throw Will an impatient look. _“Sit.”_

There’s a beat when Will just meets Mr Nelson’s look and blinks slowly. Then he opens his mouth and drawls with almost infuriating calmness: “Where?”

Mr Nelson lifts one eyebrow and Will is going to hate this class for the rest of the year, because he’s done it, he’s managed to turn Mr Nelson against him in the first five minutes of class. It’s almost a little impressive. “Excuse me?”

Will takes one hand out of his pocket and gestures to the room. “There’s no seat left, Mister.”  
Mr Nelson doesn’t look where Will is gesturing, just perches his glasses on his nose and his eyebrow lifts even higher. “Then I suggest you find a chair and someone willing to share their desk with you, Mr Miller.”

Will shrugs and drags his feet exiting the room. To Santiago’s surprise he doesn’t seem to use the opportunity to do anything other than what he was told – he returns with a chair not even a minute later and drags it to the back of the room. Right where Santiago sits. He doesn’t know what to do and just sits frozen, wishing for once he was smaller, shorter, slimmer, anything to make him invisible. The chair scrapes over the floor next to him and when he slowly looks up, Will is looking down at him. He stares back for a minute and jumps when Mr Nelson raises his voice: “What are you waiting for, Garcia? Will you _please_ let Mr Miller sit down so we can finally move on?”

“’m sorry”, Santiago mumbles and ducks his head, flushing. He moves his chair to the side as best he can, cringing at the loud scraping sound, and tips his head so his hair will cover most of his blush.

Will’s chair makes a loud ‘clank’ when he positions it. When he plops down on it, his knee brushes Santiago’s thigh and he pulls his legs in hastily, so Will has enough room for his. He stretches one long leg under their shared desk and the other one into the space between theirs and Frankie’s desk.

While Mr Nelson launches into his accented Spanish, Santiago chances a glance at Will. He’s pulled a long-used looking writing pad out of his bag and twirls a pen between his fingers, not writing anything down. His fingers are smudged with ink at the tips and of course they’re long and strangely graceful, just like the rest of him. Santiago swallows and his eyes get stuck on the strange indents, red lines pressed into the skin of Wills wrist, and then he turns his hand just so, and on the inside of his wrist is a distinctly thumb-shaped yellow spot.

“You lookin’ for something?”

Santiago barely supresses a flinch. Guiltily he flicks his eyes to Will’s face and bites his lip, but Will’s hands are still loose so he doesn’t seem to be in immediate danger of getting punched.

“Sorry”, he says again and ducks his head over his notes. He can feel Will’s eyes on him and goosebumps start rising on the back of his neck, when suddenly Mr Nelson stands in front of their desk.

“¿Cómo estáis, chicos? ¿Todo bien?”, Mr Nelson asks conversationally and Santiago can see his jaws working.

They don’t answer. Will seems to feel the tension and Santiago shrinks back into his chair.

“¿Qué?”, Mr Nelson asks in a sarcastic display of surprise. “¿Ahora ustedes taciturnos?”

“Todo bien, gracias, Mr Nelson”, Santiago mumbles.

Mr Nelson stares hard at Will, who tips his head minutely and says: “Perdón, Mr Nelson.”

Mr Nelson’ nostrils flutter. “It might be the first day of the year but I won’t hesitate to send you to detention should you disturb my class any further.”

Santiago can see Will’s eyes narrowing and there’s a muscle in his jaw, that’s twitching. If he stood up, he’d be just as tall as Mr Nelson, Santiago supposes. He doesn’t respond and Santiago feels the leg brushing his thigh under the desk tensing until it feels made out of stone.

“Am I clear, Mr Miller?”, Mr Nelson insists and between his and Will’s face Santiago can see Tom’s face crumpling in that worried, tense way of his. Before Will or Tom or anyone can say anything, there’s a sigh from behind Will and suddenly Frankie sticks his face in between the two of them.

“Ah, tranquilo, mis hermanos”, he slurs, remnants of sleep (and probably weed) audible in his voice. Frankie squints heavy eyelids at Mr Nelson, a lazy smile curling on his lips. “He was just asking which book we’re using in this class. Didn’t mean to disturb nothing – no more disturbing, right, Willie?”

“I’m not your _hermano_ , Mr Morales”, Mr Nelson reminds him coldly and glares at Frankie, who smiles brightly and widens his eyes into the most gullible, innocent expression Santiago has ever seen on anyone over the age of two.

“Ah, nonsense, we’re all hermanos here, united in our love for the Spanish language, no?”, Frankie smiles and spreads his arms to include the entire room. Tom supresses it but Santiago can see him straining to roll his eyes at Frankie’s theatrics.

“One day you’re going to choke on your own clever words, Morales”, Mr Nelson warns him grimly, but Frankie’s smile doesn’t dim even a little. He seems to have succeeded anyway, Mr Nelson doesn’t even look at Will and makes his way back to the front of the class, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath.

“I’m not your hermano, either”, Will grits out as soon as Mr Nelson is out of earshot, his eyes trained strictly forward.

Santiago can see Frankie roll his eyes as he slumps back into his chair. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before you tried starting a war with the old dragon.”

“Fuck off”, Will grunts, his eyebrows drawn together but still not looking at Frankie.

Smirking, Frankie watches him intently. “Wow, you’re a real sunshine, aren’t you?”

“Is he always this annoying?”, Will asks after a moment and it takes Santiago embarrassingly long to realize, whom Will is talking to.

“Oh. Um. No? He’s just…Frankie.” As soon as he says it, Santiago wants to punch himself. Will snorts and busies himself with scribbling down something, when Mr Nelson starts looking in his direction again.

“Why thank you, little Saint”, Frankie smiles toothily at Santiago over Will’s hunched back and Santiago feels a lump in the back of his throat at the familiar nickname. “I’m unique.”

Santiago is sure Will is rolling his eyes even though he can only see the back of his head. “If he’s ‘just Frankie’, who’re you then?”

“Santiago”, says Santiago, presses his lips together and ducks his head again.

He can feel Will’s eyes drilling into the side of his head, but he only speaks when Santiago sighs and meets his eyes.

“Okay”, Will says in that slow, thoughtful drawl again, and Santiago doesn’t know what to do with that so he just nods and tries not to blush.

 

Over the course of the week, whenever Frankie sees Will he greets him with increasingly creative iterations of ‘Fuck you’ and it must be something about Frankie’s undeniable coolness, because instead of getting beaten up for insulting a much taller, much broader guy (although Santiago wouldn’t bet on Will winning that fight, Frankie is one tough sonofabitch), Will replies in kind and the punches being thrown are good-natured.

Then Will gets suspended for fighting with Kyle and Ethan, and that’s how Santiago finds out Will has a younger brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my spanish is _very_ basic, so apologies if it makes no sense!]
> 
> Next chapter: The story of how Benny decided, Santiago and he should definitely be friends.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how Benny decided, Santiago and he should definitely be friends.

According to school-gossip, Will’s younger brother Ben is ‘a weirdo anyway’ and Kyle and Ethan didn’t like it when Will made them look bad during PE – because they’re on the team and he was better/stronger/quicker at some thing or another, the reports vary – so they decided to send Will a message through his little brother. Only, Will ‘the psycho’ came after them for it and now Kyle sports a sprained wrist and a huge shiner, and Ethan has bruised ribs and a split lip. Neither of them get suspended (they’re on the team, of course they don’t get suspended), but the school seems to have put some sort of rule in place about them being closer than ten feet or something to Benjamin Miller. Will is suspended for three weeks, and he’s only been at the school for one.

Three days after it happened, Santiago is sorting through his stuff on the bench behind the pool, when he runs into Benny. Or rather, Benny runs into him.

Santiago sighs at his ripped algebra notes, but at least he managed to rub the footprints off the cover of his Spanish book, so it’s not all bad. He has to bring his guitar on Wednesdays and Fridays for practice, and when Grant and Ethan started shoving each other, Grant stumbled against him, so Santiago had to choose between dropping his books or his guitar. He can’t afford a new guitar, he could barely afford the second-hand one he has now, so the choice was obvious. And now he has Grant’s shoeprints all over his notes and books.

He’s busy piling them up into an orderly stack and smoothing out the crumpled paper, when he hears the door to the pool fall closed with a heavy thud behind him. The swimming team must’ve just finished practice, he thinks, his back turned to the path between the cafeteria and the pool. He hears footsteps but doesn’t pay them any mind – as long as they don’t pay him any mind, he’s happy.

“Hey, you’re the one, they call ‘Saintie’, right?”, a voice behind him asks and Santiago jumps a little. He turns around with some trepidation but he doesn’t know the boy standing in front of him. The boy is tall and although his voice is quite deep, his face is still round and smooth, betraying his age – probably a year or two below Santiago. His hair is dark and wet, he’s obviously just come out of the shower, and there’s a heavy looking bag slung over his shoulder. But it’s the eyes, the most intense blue eyes (not unlike swimming pools, actually) Santiago has ever seen, that make it clear to whom he’s speaking. They’re not as icy and without the greyish tinge of his brother’s, but they’re surrounded by the same long, curling lashes, and the shape of his face, the set of his jaw, even the shape of his mouth, is almost an exact copy of Will’s.

“I guess”, Santiago shrugs, swallowing down the bitter taste that usually accompanies the sound of the nickname.

The boy, Will’s brother, just keeps standing there, shoulders loose and relaxed, with the same open, focused stare Will has. And it’s no less intimidating. Santiago can feel himself starting to fidget.

Slowly he tilts his head and Santiago doesn’t know why, but he’s suddenly intensely reminded of a confused but intrigued dog. “Why?”

Behind the boy, the door opens again and the rest of the team comes spilling out, all with damp hair and chatting in groups of three or four. Ben doesn’t seem to even register them, just keeps looking at Santiago expectantly.

“Why…what?”, Santiago questions and licks his lips nervously. Why is Will’s brother even talking to him? If he’s heard of ‘Saintie’, why on earth would he want to speak to him?

“Why do they call you ‘Saintie’?”, Will’s brother clarifies and steps closer. He’s almost as tall as his brother and Santiago has to tip his chin quite far up to still meet his eyes.

“Oh.” Santiago feels stupid. “Well, I’m – see, my full name is Santiago? So. That’s where that comes from, I guess.” Also because people seem to love irony and with all the stories about Santiago’s family, a more ironic nickname than ‘Saint’ might be hard to find.

The boy frowns. “’Santiago’? Is that, like, Spanish for ‘Saint’ or what?”

“Um. Well, yes, sort of”, Santiago stammers and frowns. Maybe it’s not as obvious as he thought it was? Or he’s is messing with Santiago. Yeah, that seems more likely.

“Why not ‘Santi’ then? Wouldn’t that be closer to your name?”, Will’s brother furrows his brows thoughtfully and Santiago doesn’t know what to reply, so he doesn’t and just shrugs. He’s never really been a ‘Tiago’ and ‘Saintie’ is like a meaner version of ‘Santi’, Santiago supposes, so it just seemed natural for people to call him that. The boy seems to think for a moment. “What’s that mean anyway? ‘Saint’? Isn’t, like, the Pope a saint or something?”

“…I’m not sure, that’s how it works”, Santiago says carefully, still trying to decide if he’s being messed with.

The boy keeps frowning for a moment until he shrugs, abruptly. “Doesn’t matter. So I can just call you Pope, right?”

“I…uh…”, Santiago opens and closes his useless mouth a few times until he snaps it shut, mentally kicking himself for not coming up with an answer like a normal person.

“Okay, great!”, Will’s brother beams and steps closer again, a little too close. Santiago sways back a little and wishes, the bench wasn’t right behind him so he could take a step back. The boy doesn’t seem to register Santiago’s predicament and thrusts his hand into the tiny space between them, his wide smile revealing a row of pearly white teeth and just so…open. “I’m Benny.”

Santiago feels like he’s just been hit by a cement-carrying truck and takes Benny’s hand in a daze. “I know.”

Benny’s smile dims and he frowns, letting go of Santiago’s hand and taking half a step back.

“What?”, he says and there’s a tension in his shoulders now, a suspicious glint in his eyes that dims the light behind them. He looks even more like his brother like this, and Santiago doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t like it.

Instinctively he follows Benny and lifts his open palms, wishing for that lightness, that open smile to return. “No, no! It’s not weird, I promise, I just – your brother’s in some of my classes.”

That doesn’t really explain anything and Will never mentioned Benny even once, but it seems to appease him, nonetheless. His shoulders relax a little, but there’s still some tension in Benny’s eyes. “Okay. And…what, you’re friends now?”

“That sounds almost like a test”, Santiago mumbles with a nervous chuckle. “No, I…I’ve talked to him a few times. That’s all. He seems…nice.”

Benny snorts. “He’s a stubborn bastard, is what he is.”

A surprised laugh rips out of Santiago but he swallows it almost immediately, watching Benny wearily. It’s his brother, maybe Santiago’s not allowed to laugh about that?

“Thick-headed idiot”, Benny chuckles under his breath and now there’s a strange sadness in his eyes and around his mouth, that makes him look older than he is. Santiago thinks about the fading bruises he’s seen on Will’s body and swallows.

“He almost started a fight with Mr Nelson”, he says quickly and smiles, relieved, when Benny’s mouth reveals his teeth again.

“Of course he did”, Benny says and rolls his eyes.

Then someone shouts from the cafeteria and Benny claps Santiago’s shoulder and takes a few steps backwards. “Was nice meeting you, Pope!”

“Nice meeting you, too”, Santiago mumbles and tries to examine the tickle at the back of his neck at the sound of the new nickname. ‘Pope’. Feels weird.

“See you tomorrow!”, Benny shouts and turns around to run towards the waving figure by the cafeteria. “Good luck with band practice.”

Santiago frowns and looks down at the guitar perched against the bench next to him. “I don’t – I’m not in a…” _…band._ But Benny has already entered the cafeteria when Santiago trails off.

‘See you tomorrow’?, he thinks while stacking up his papers and books into a semi-orderly pile he can shove into his bag. On his way to the practice-room, where Ms Kovalski is waiting to pick out the songs for his exam with him, he rolls the word around on his tongue.

Pope. _Pope._ It’s just as ironic as ‘Saint’ is but somehow it feels…different. Better. It’s probably because Benny didn’t put any malicious intent behind the word, Santiago muses. He could get used to ‘Pope’, he thinks. Until Benny hears all the rumours about his family, he reminds himself quickly and squashes down the hopeful feeling rising in his chest. Dangerous. He can’t get his hopes up about any of this. Benny is new here. Benny doesn’t know any better.

He’s probably never going to speak to or even see Santiago ever again, anyway. Worrying about this is completely pointless, he decides as he enters the practice-room and smiles at Ms Kovalski. He doesn’t think about ‘Pope’ or the friendliest smile he’s seen in years for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just my headcanon of how 'Pope' came to be, but I'd actually be really interested in your theories? If you've got any suggestions of how 'Pope' or any of the other nicknames were developed, let me know!
> 
> Next Chapter: Benny is being Benny and Santiago gets to know a whole new side of Will


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny is being Benny and Santiago gets to know a whole new side of Will.

Benny seems to have some sort of special ability to find Santiago wherever he is on the school grounds. Or maybe it’s just honest coincidence that they bump into each other on both Thursday and Friday during breaks. Santiago doesn’t know what to make of it, when Benny plops down next to him during lunch or comes up to him in the hallways.

It’s almost astonishing how little Benny seems to care about revealing himself, it barely takes a few days for Santiago to learn his ways. Benny talks with his whole body: his hands are gesturing, legs bouncing, feet twitching, while his mouth runs a hundred miles per hour and his eyes are the most expressive eyes Santiago has ever seen. He talks about everything and nothing and he keeps calling Santiago ‘Pope’, which gets Benny a few weird looks when he shouts it at Santiago across the hallway between periods. Each time he hears it, Santiago’s body prickles with warmth – he’s never had a nickname that wasn’t meant to hurt or rile him up and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel about it.

Benny also touches Santiago. A lot. Maybe it’s because he’s so big and Santiago is just in his close proximity so bodily contact is inevitable. Benny reminds him of one of those enthusiastic big dogs, that don’t realize how huge they actually are and think of themselves still as the size they were when they were puppies. His arms in particular Benny flops around like they’re nothing, like they’re not miles longer than Santiago’s. He throws them around Santiago’s shoulders whenever they sit or walk next to each other and they brush against Santiago every time Benny reaches to open doors, steal food from his plate, put the food he doesn’t like on Santiago’s plate, or to drum a beat on the body of his guitar while he’s strumming a melody on it.

Benny is a lot, almost too much, and Santiago feels slightly overwhelmed, like he’s drowning in Benny and simultaneously being held above water by him. Thinking about Benny’s unreasonable attachment to Santiago over the weekend, he finally thinks he gets it – Benny thinks Santiago is _cool_. Maybe it’s because of the guitar, but more likely because Santiago is always alone and Benny probably thinks of it as a voluntary situation. To a degree it is Santiago’s choice, of course, because he’d rather people leave him alone than make fun of him. He’s lucky he learned to handle himself well enough, for people to leave him alone nowadays. But still. It’s got nothing to do with ‘cool’.

Santiago supposes Benny will figure it out eventually and decides not to get too attached to him, but it’s much harder than it should be. _Benny_ makes it harder than it should be. On Monday, Benny tells him about the trip to the city Will took him on and he’s so full of energy and pure, honest enthusiasm, Santiago feels a little dazed in the presence of it.

And then, during the second week of Will’s suspension, Benny seems to develop a thing for Santiago’s hair.

“You need a haircut, Pope”, Benny frowns and unceremoniously shoves his fingers through Santiago’s floppy fringe, pushing it back from his forehead and revealing his entire face.

Frozen, Santiago stares at him, his neck yielding naturally to the force of Benny’s pushing as he lets his head be tilted back. His cheeks are burning and there’s no way Benny doesn’t notice it. “W-what?”

“This”, Benny reiterates and gestures to Santiago’s entire face. “This is not a good situation. Your hair is horrible. When did you cut it last?”

There’s a lump in his throat when Santiago tries to swallow and he frees himself of Benny’s grip. The memory of his mother bent over him with scissors in one hand, her other hand detangling the messy strands of his wet hair, comes back unbidden. Her eyes were clear that day. They haven’t been since.

“Dunno. Three months? Maybe Four.”

Benny scoffs. “See? Horrible.”

Santiago ducks his head and watches his foot kick at the dry asphalt beneath his soles. His shoes have been dirty for so long, he doesn’t even remember if they used to be white or grey. “Can’t afford it.”

Thankfully, Benny doesn’t make him say it twice. There’s a pause, though, and when Santiago looks up Benny is squinting his eyes and pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Us neither. My mom usually cuts ours, or Will cuts mine when she doesn’t have the time.”

Avoiding Benny’s eyes now feels like an admission, so Santiago clenches his jaw and hopes his face doesn’t betray anything as he meets Benny’s look, waiting for him to continue. Benny blinks and clears his throat when Santiago doesn’t fill the pause. He rubs the back of his neck and pulls at the strands of dark blonde hair there, grimacing and glancing back at Santiago awkwardly. “Uhm, okay, yeah, so. I mean – you wanna?”

This time when Santiago stays quiet, it’s because he’s genuinely confused – is Benny offering what he thinks he’s offering? Surely not. He’d…That would mean Santiago would have to come to Benny’s house. Where his family lives. Where his brother lives. What would people say?

“Just, I mean, Mom would probably do it but if, if that’s weird or whatever I could ask Will or – or I can do it myself? I’ve never really, ah, cut anyone’s hair, but…whatever, forget it. It’s weird, probably. Sorry. Forget I said anything”, Benny rambles and Santiago stares at him in disbelief. His cheeks are a dark pink now and Santiago can’t believe he made Benny feel uncomfortable. _Benny._

“No!”, he blurts out, a little too loud probably, but Benny’s eyes light up and Santiago doesn’t really have time to feel awkward about it. “I mean – no? I…it’s fine. It’s, I mean, it’s a little weird, yeah, but I – if you wanna, sure, you can cut my hair?”

He cringes internally. Why can’t he just form plainly structured sentences, with a beginning and an end, like a normal person? Thankfully, Benny doesn’t seem to mind. A bright smile spreads across his face and he throws his arms around Santiago.

“It _is_ a little weird!”, Benny laughs and then he _lifts Santiago off the ground_ and Santiago scrambles for purchase. It only lasts a second or so, then Benny puts him back on his feet and Santiago hasn’t felt this out of sorts in a long time. Benny just laughs louder at his shocked face and claps him on his shoulder. “You’re such a weirdo, Pope.”

‘Me? _I’m_ the weirdo?’, Santiago wants to ask, but nothing comes out of his mouth. Benny tells him to come around his house on Friday and pulls on Santiago’s hair before he shoulders his bag and strolls towards the pool, humming under his breath. Santiago can’t seem to form words until at least two classes later.

 

The next day, Benny makes sure, their agreement still stands, and gives Santiago his address. Santiago writes it down dutifully and Benny smiles at him again, when he stows the crumpled piece of paper it in his bag. It’s about twenty minutes by foot from Santiago’s home, and about ten if he takes his bike. He should be okay.

On Wednesday, Yovanna intercepts him on his way to his physics class, and he’s confused to see her for a moment because she doesn’t take physics. Then she sees him and waves at him to come over. His stomach swoops as he trudges towards her in an echo of the crush he nurtured until sometime last winter, but it is mixed with trepidation. She’s always been nice to him, but that doesn’t mean her friends, three of which are standing next to her, will be too.

She smiles at him and, yeah, she is _really_ pretty, Santiago knows why his crush took so long to subside.

And then she tells him it’s nice to see him and she’s heard he’s friends with the younger Miller brother? His throat gets a little scratchy, when he realizes she’s probably interested in Benny (and why wouldn’t she? He’s very pretty, too, and pretty people usually go together very well, if high school taught Santiago anything). When he nods, he surprises himself a little. Somewhere along the way, Benny seems to have wormed his way under Santiago’s skin and now he’s already considering Benny a ‘friend’ even though…even though…Santiago isn’t sure what exactly. He’s so deep in thought that he just blurts ‘sure’, when Yovanna asks if it’d be okay for her to call him ‘Pope’, too.

“It’s a cool nickname”, she says and squeezes Santiago’s underarm lightly as she leans in, as though to tell him a secret with a lowered voice. “I never really liked ‘Saint’. It doesn’t sound very nice when people call you that.”

Santiago doesn’t know how to respond to that, but she doesn’t seem to require a response and lets go of him when the bell rings. Her friends curse, they’re going to be late, but Yovanna rolls her eyes at them, still facing Santiago, and he barks a laugh before he can stop it. Her smile widens and she calls “bye, Pope!” as she’s dragged away backwards by her friends.

 

By Thursday, Santiago realizes, he’s gotten used to the nickname. There’s no delay anymore, when he hears Benny say it, and when Yovanna smiles at him in the hallway, Santiago thinks maybe he can be more than ‘used to’ being Pope – maybe he can _be_ Pope.

The days are getting shorter already, but for now it’s still sort-of-summer, and the air is warm and humid on his skin as he walks home. He doesn’t take his bike to school anymore, since Lorea started eyeing it sometime last year. He wouldn’t know how to explain to his mother how he lost his bike, so for now he only uses it when he needs to go grocery shopping or basically anywhere he knows Lorea won’t be.

He’s starting to regret that choice, when he rounds a corner and sees Will leaning against a fence, obviously waiting for someone. Despite now knowing for a fact that the Miller’s home is nowhere near this street, Santiago hopes Will isn’t here for him and tries to cross the street as discreetly as possible. He should’ve known better. There’s nobody around and the only sounds are coming from the highway nearby, some birds chirping, and Santiago’s own footsteps.

When he hears the “Hey - _hey_!” he only quickens his steps. This can’t be good. People waiting for him on his way home from school can only mean bad things.

He has his head ducked, so he doesn’t see Will coming, but suddenly he’s pushed face-first into the wall he was walking by and there’s a heavy weight pushing hard into his back. Santiago makes a distressed noise and struggles, gets his hands on the wall and pushes back. That seems to dislodge Will enough for Santiago to scramble away. He’s dropped his bag and the contents are spilled all over the sidewalk, but Santiago’s heart is racing and he just starts running. Better going to school without his books than being beaten to a pulp.

He doesn’t get farther than a few steps, before Will catches up to him on his much longer legs and yanks him back by his shirt. Santiago’s head is spinning and all the air gets punched out of his lungs when Will slams his back up against the wall.

“Fucking – stop moving!”

Will’s face is so close, too close, and Santiago can feel his breath brushing his skin. It’s not even a conscious thought, his body reacts instinctively, even as his brain is still dazed by the eyes drilling into his like ice-cold iron: Santiago’s hands dislodge Will’s on his chest and he’s kicking Will’s thigh, before he knows it.

“Shit”, Will grits out and it’s only because he moves his hips to the side, that Santiago’s knee doesn’t get buried in Will’s balls and instead collides with his hipbone. Will growls, fists both hands in Santiago’s collar and pulls _hard_ , and Santiago has never been more aware of his smaller frame. His head lolls back and he feels like a ragdoll being manhandled like this. Then the back of his head explodes in pain and he groans, white spots dancing before his eyes. He struggles to clear his vision and when he finally stops blinking, Will has him pinned against the wall again. His wrists are twisted behind his back, digging into his lower spine, secured in Will’s fist (how huge are this guy’s hands?). Will’s free arm is laid across his shoulders, forearm pressing against Santiago’s throat just hard enough to make him aware of its presence, and Will has the entire line of his body pressed against Santiago, hips pushing hard enough to make any kicking impossible. Santiago breathes hard against the pressure at his throat and blinks away the tears prickling in his eyes. The back of his head pulsates painfully.

“Stop”, Will pants and his eyes are narrowed dangerously. Panic rises in the back of Santiago’s throat when it really hits home, how helplessly incapacitated he is, but Will wrenches his arms higher when he feels Santiago’s muscles locking up. _“Stop.”_

Santiago swallows hard and he’s not sure if he’s tasting real blood in his mouth, or if he has a mild concussion. He can do nothing but stare up at Will and silently pray he doesn’t break any bones.  
When Santiago stays quiet, Will’s mouth pulls into a sneer and it’s only when he licks his lips, that Santiago realizes Will is bleeding. He blinks. Did he do that?

“Asshole”, Will curses and Santiago closes his eyes, waiting for the blow. “Now you listen here, you little shit – goddamnit, look at me. C’mon.”

Hesitantly, Santiago opens his eyes. Will has leaned back a few inches (too far away for a headbutt and why didn’t Santiago think of this before?) and stares down at him, eyebrows drawn together and mouth set into a hard line. Maybe it’s his spinning head, but Santiago really can’t get past how pretty Will is, even in anger.

“Why did you run? What the fuck, dude, I didn’t even want to...”, he trails off with a frustrated puff of air and his fist around Santiago’s wrists relaxes a little. “Nevermind. You know Benny?”  
The question is so beyond what Santiago expected to happen that it takes him a minute to register. When Will lifts one eyebrow slowly, prompting, he nods minutely. 

“Good”, Will says and it sounds everything but, his voice is reduced to a dangerously low, slow rolling purr. “Then you know he’s my brother and you also know not to fuck with him, because if you do, I’m gonna come for you. If I hear you talking shit with any of your little asshole friends, if I even get a sense you’re making fun of him, I’m gonna fuck your shit up. Do we understand each other?”

Santiago winces and bites his tongue, trying to supress a whimper when Will’s grip on his wrists tightens again. “Do we?”

He doesn’t dare open his mouth, because he’s sure only a whimper of pain will come out, so he grits his teeth and nods quickly.

“I’ve heard all kinds of weird shit about you and your family”, Will continues, not letting up. “You’re not gonna pull my brother into any of that, either, you hear me? No weird shit, no stupid shit, no assholery, just…none of that, are we clear?”

Again, Santiago can do nothing but nod.

“Okay. So, what will you do tomorrow?”, Will prompts, staring him down.

Gulping, Santiago presses out: “I-I’ll keep away, I promise. I won’t – no weird shit. Won’t talk to Benny again, I swear. Please, just – “

“No”, Will interrupts him and rolls his eyes. “No, man. No, you’re not gonna act any different, you’re not gonna tell him about any of this, and you’re gonna play nice, okay? I don’t care what you and Benny do together, but I do care what happens to him. We moved across the god damn country to get away from stupid shitshows like this and you’re not gonna fuck this up for him.”

Santiago doesn’t know what to say and his head is still spinning. All he can do is meet those unnervingly calm, stormy grey eyes, and wait for Will to decide what he wants to do to him. Will keeps staring him down for another beat, then shoves himself away from Santiago by pushing against his throat one last time. Then he’s released and Will steps back.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Santiago stays leaning against the wall and gasps for breath. He watches Will retreat warily and doesn’t move before he’s rounded the corner Santiago just came from, barely two minutes ago. His eyes are burning and he coughs, grimacing, as he starts picking up his stuff from the sidewalk and stows them back in his bag.

Maybe it’s because of his head, but he feels sick the entire walk home and it doesn’t really get better the next day. As he’s standing in front of the tiny one-story house, belonging to the address Benny gave him, the queasy feeling reaches its peak, and he’s almost sure he’s going to vomit on the Millers’ doormat. Santiago pushes the doorbell anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: There's cutting of hair and Santiago can't figure Will out at all. Also, Benny is supportive and a little insulting at the same time.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's cutting of hair and Santiago can't figure Will out at all. Also, Benny is supportive and a little insulting at the same time.

It’s quiet in the house for so long, Santiago is almost sure he’s being messed with and Benny was just playing an elaborate prank on him, to trick Santiago into believing Benny wanted to be his friend. He throws a glance over his shoulder and looks for people maybe hiding in the bushes or behind dumpsters, sniggering at him, waiting by this stranger’s door like an idiot. And then something loud and heavy crashes behind the door.

“Hiya, Pope! You’re early”, Benny says as soon as he’s opened the door. He grabs Santiago by the arm and pulls him into a one-armed hug and into the house.

“I’m on time, aren’t I?”, he frowns when Benny releases him.

He waves for Santiago to follow him and bounces down a short, dimly lit hallway that seems almost too narrow for his wide shoulders. They end up in the kitchen, where Benny hands him a glass of tap water and immediately pulls Santiago into the next room, which appears to be the living room.

“We said three and it’s three”, Benny says nonsensically. “Normal people don’t show up until half past, man. I wasn’t ready.”

“Sorry”, says Santiago and sips from his water, while assessing the room. It’s sparsely furnished with two worn sofas, a tiny, boxy television, and a few old bookcases that are mostly empty or stacked with magazines, framed pictures, and all sorts of small trinkets.

“’s fine”, Benny shrugs and fiddles with the light-switch, squinting up at the flickering lightbulb. He purses his lips. “I guess it’ll do.”

Then he drags a chair over from the kitchen and into the centre of the living room. Next to it, on a small table, he sets out scissors and a comb, that Santiago can tell already, will be much too fine for his wildly uncontrollable curls. When Benny gestures for Santiago to sit, he puts down his glass by Benny’s supplies and says: “Shouldn’t I, ah, wet my hair, or something?”

“Whoops. Yeah, maybe.” Benny grimaces. “Like I said, I’ve never really done this, usually Will or Mom cut my hair.”

This is probably a stupid idea, Santiago thinks, bent over the bathtub Benny just showed him to, with cold water running over his head.

“This is probably a stupid idea”, he says when he sits down on the chair, wet hair dripping cold water onto his shoulders.

Benny laughs. “Yeah, probably.” Santiago can hear him snipping the scissors through air a few times, to get a feel for them. “You ready?”

Santiago takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

 

Turns out, he wasn’t ready. About ten minutes later, there are footsteps and before either of them can turn around, there’s a raspy laugh echoing through the room.

“Uhm…excuse me?”, Will asks, somewhere between a cough and a laugh as he rounds Santiago on the chair. He can’t move, because Benny has scissors very fucking close to his skull, so he follows Will’s movements with just his eyes. His lip isn't split but Santiago can see where it's swollen slightly, from where it collided with some part of Santiago's body yesterday. His stomach cramps a little when he remembers their last interaction, but it’s hard to reconcile that violent version with this squinty-eyed, laughing one. “The hell you guys think you’re doing?”

“Fuck off, I’m cutting his hair”, Benny grumbles and antithetically (thankfully) stops cutting Santiago’s hair. “What do you want?”

“Well”, Will begins but seems unable to put his thoughts into words, as he gestures to all of Santiago-and-Ben. Instead of answering Benny’s question, he asks: “Where’s the towel to catch his hair? And what about the mess you already made, huh? Why are you doing it inside, on the fucking carpet, where it’ll be a nightmare to clean up, instead of just going outside? And…fuck, I’m sorry man but you kind of look like a grumpy eagle.”

Will tries not to laugh, but his mouth is curving and even when he holds a hand up to hide his grin behind it, his eyes are all crinkly and glinting with laughter. He’s happy and relaxed and bright, so bright, and…He’s beautiful is what he is. Santiago frowns and looks to his feet. He’s surrounded by dark curls. Will’s right, Ben put the chair square in the middle of the carpet. Why didn’t they think of this? They’re probably gonna find his hair in this carpet for years, and Santiago blushes in embarrassment. Why didn’t he think of any of this?

“Shit. ‘m sorry”, he mumbles and sees Benny pouting next to him, the scissors dangling from his fingers, as he struggles and fails to find a retort to his brother’s (admittedly very valid) questioning.

“Cos you’re stupid, that’s why”, Will answers his own question and smirks when Benny glares at him. “It’s always the same with you, I don’t know why I even asked.”

“Piss off”, Benny grumbles and lifts the scissors again as though to resume cutting Santiago’s hair, just to spite Will.

Instinctively Santiago ducks his head, ‘you look like a grumpy eagle’ echoing in his mind. He must’ve looked honestly panicked, because suddenly Will holds his hand out and Benny pauses.

“C’mon then, let me do it”, Will says and steps closer. “Help me get the chair outside, yeah?”

For a second Santiago thinks, Benny is going to decline out of principle. He doesn’t know Benny that well, but from what he’s learned over the past weeks, once Benny makes a choice he sticks with it. Not unlike his brother, actually – stubbornness appears to be a family trait.

“I would’ve been fine”, Benny mumbles grumpily and hands over the scissors. Santiago tries to exhale inaudibly, as to not offend Benny. It’s not like he made Benny cut his hair, all this was Benny’s idea after all, but it came from a good place and Santiago is sure, he really did need that haircut anyway. Benny did warn him about never having cut anyone’s hair before. Santiago is not sure, why he even agreed to this but now he’s here and it’s happening, so he’ll roll with it.

“I know”, Will says and to Santiago’s surprise he seems to genuinely mean it, there’s no trace of sarcasm or teasing in his tone. When he looks up, Will nods at Benny and there’s a softness around his eyes that Santiago has never seen before. “I’ll be quicker, that’s all.”

Benny shuffles his feet and there’s still a stubborn pout on his lips when he makes a noncommittal sound. Will grabs his arm and smiles, when Benny reluctantly looks up. “Hey, don’t get all pouty on me now. You can cut my hair next time, promise?”

Benny’s face darkens for a second, then he acquiesces and rolls his eyes but Santiago notices how he doesn’t shrug his brother’s hand off. “Whatever, asshole.”

Will narrows his eyes but his lips are twitching when he slaps Benny across the head lightly. “You’re such a pain in my ass.”

“Fuck you”, Benny retorts and shoves Will’s shoulder, who just chuckles and shakes his head, and Santiago suddenly wishes he were anywhere else, where he wouldn’t feel like such an intruder. This is family. Santiago is no good here.

He hastens to stand up when Will gestures for him to get up, and Benny grabs the chair and carries it outside behind the house. Self-consciously, Santiago starts picking up the most visible dark curls from the carpet.

“Leave it”, Will says from the doorway, scissors in hand and watching Santiago with that unnerving calmness of his. Conflicting images fight in Santiago’s head – Will’s face tight with anger as he presses down on Santiago’s airpipe, and Will’s face soft as he watches his little brother, careful not to hurt his feelings. Santiago has a feeling, he might get whiplash from these two conflicting Wills, if he spends any more time with the Millers. “Benny’ll clean it up later. I’m guessing this was his idea, yeah?”

Santiago clutches the hair in his hand and chews on his lip, unable to meet Will’s quietly assessing eyes. “Uhm. Kinda?”

Will snorts and gestures for Santiago to follow him, when he looks up. “Of course it was. Crazy bastard. Bring the comb.”

Santiago turns around again and hastily picks up the comb from the sofa table, before following the brother’s voices outside of the house. The yard is small and there’s nothing in it, just dry grass and an old porch swing, squeaking softly and covered in rust. Benny is lounging on it and he’ll definitely get rust-stains on his bleached jeans, Santiago thinks.

“You’ll get rust-stains”, Will says and gets flipped off for his trouble.

Santiago says nothing and straddles the chair, when Will pats its seat and then he forgets how to breathe for a second because Will is suddenly very close. Benny was standing over him in the exact same position, not five minutes ago, but somehow then his heart hadn’t jumped into his throat. Will’s hips, right where his shirt rides up a few inches as he lifts his arms and reveals a sliver of beige-golden skin and black boxers and blue jeans and…yeah, all of that is right in Santiago’s face, sitting astride the chair like this. On his right hipbone there is the faint trace of a bruise, probably caused by Santiago's knee hitting him in his struggle to get away from Will's grip. Santiago regrets not taking his glass of tap water with him, because his mouth is suddenly dry enough for his tongue to stick to the roof. He swallows hard.

“Okay, your sides are kinda short already, so I can’t really do anything about that”, Will addresses him and Santiago almost jumps when fingers start carding through his hair. “I’ll even them out, so those will probably end up pretty short, but if you want I could leave the top a little longer? You seem to like wearing your hair longer, so I’m guessing that’d be okay for you?”

“Yeah”, Santiago wants to say, but his throat is too dry and no sound comes out. He clears his throat awkwardly and sighs, relieved when Will circles a few steps around him and vanishes from his view. He stutters out a weak “u-hu” and catches an encouraging thumbs-up from Benny, watching them.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t look so worried”, Benny grins when Will spears his fingers through Santiago’s hair, right behind his left ear, and Santiago’s eyes almost pop out of his head. Santiago wants Benny to never stop talking, never stop distracting him from Will’s proximity. “You scared him with your stupid eagle comment, Will.”

“Sorry”, says Will above Santiago’s head, sounding anything but. “Didn’t say ‘stupid’, though. I said ‘grumpy’.”

“That’s probably because of my huge eyebrows”, Santiago mumbles under his breath and there’s a beat of silence, before Benny barks out a laugh.

“You’re right, that’s it!”, he beams and gestures to Santiago’s face excitedly, as though he never considered this before. “And a little cos of your nose, when you’re all frowny and serious.” Santiago frowns. “Yeah, just like that!”

Will snorts above his head and Santiago feels the warm air hit the top of his head, tousling a few strands of hair there. “You’ve really got complimenting down, Benny. Bet Pope feels real special, having his nose compared to a beak.”

Benny rolls his eyes and Santiago keeps his mouth shut. _Pope_. Will called him Pope. Probably because his brother keeps calling Santiago that, but it doesn’t feel like it really matters why. All Santiago knows, is that it makes warmth rush through his body and tingle in his fingertips, and he doesn’t think he could bear hearing Will call him ‘Saintie’ after this.

“Nah, man”, Benny drawls and stretches out across the porch swing, one leg dangling to lazily push the swing now and again. He’s closed his eyes and gestures flippantly towards them. “Pope doesn’t care. Too pretty for compliments anyway, I don’t need to kiss his ass.”

Santiago freezes for a whole minute and he knows, he _knows_ his face is bright red, even though Benny luckily doesn’t open his eyes to look for a reaction. Still, Santiago can feel Will tensing up next to him, his entire body a line made of steel, and Santiago can see Will’s hand forming a fist by his hip out of the corner of his eye. Will doesn’t move for about twenty seconds, fist ready and Santiago closes his eyes, waiting for him to decide whether or not to punch him. When nothing happens, he opens his eyes tentatively and Will is still tense, still not moving, but his fist is uncurled. Santiago can feel Will breathing slowly, measured, obviously waiting for Santiago to…do what exactly?

The only reply coming to his mind is a quiet “thank you, Benny” and he’s not sure it’s the right answer at all, but Benny grunts carelessly in acknowledgement and the tension drains from Will. Then, the scissors start their work up again and after a while Benny starts humming under his breath.

He’s got quite the beautiful voice, actually, Santiago thinks as Will moves on to the top of his head and positions himself square in front of the chair again, fingers tugging insistently at Santiago’s bangs. Santiago closes his eyes and focuses on the beautifully simple sound of Benny’s voice instead of wondering if Will uses cologne or just smells damn good all on his own. He’s noticed Benny’s voice before, of course, but never like this, never so carelessly breathed out almost like an afterthought, filling the late-summer air and drowning out all the other sounds.

“Fuck man, how much hair do you got?”, Will mutters under his breath a few minutes later. He’s trying to use the comb, but it does little more than catch in Santiago’s hair and pull his head back instead of detangling any hair. Pouring water of his head without combing it afterwards probably only worsened the comb’s chances.

Santiago is unsure how to reply – ‘too much? A lot? Sorry?’ He just shrugs and pushes against the comb’s pull, even as it rips out a few hairs on its way from his forehead to the back. Will clucks his tongue and circles slowly around Santiago, looking at him from all sides and wielding the scissors here and there, when he finds any hair out of place. At one point his face is very close to Santiago’s and he holds his breath, while Will’s pale eyes focus on evening out Santiago’s hair.

In the end there are still a few curls of hair falling over his forehead, but there is no floppy hair left anywhere, no strands reaching even close to his eyes, and Santiago’s head feels strangely light and naked. Especially around his ears and by his neck, the hair is cropped so close, it can’t even curl anymore. He can feel every puff of air directly on his skin now. Instinctively, Santiago pulls his shoulders up a little to give his exposed neck some cover.

Benny whistles when Will steps back, a brilliant smile spreading over his face and he claps his hands twice in excitement. “Damn, Pope, you look awesome!”

“Yeah?”, Santiago says, unsure, and glances to check Will’s expression. Unsurprisingly – but still disappointingly – Will’s face shows only calm assessment, his eyes flickering over Santiago’s face and hair critically.

“Yeah, man”, Benny laughs and gets up, just to clap Santiago’s shoulder with a resounding ‘smack’. “No hiding your pretty face now. You’re gonna break so many hearts, mark my words.”

Santiago can’t help the embarrassed laugh, even as he ducks his head, and Benny takes the opportunity to roughly tousle his freshly cut hair. ‘Break so many hearts’, yeah right. If he manages to _touch_ even one heart in his lifetime, he’ll be lucky. But Benny is still grinning wide and proud and even Will shows the trace of a smile, with one corner of his mouth repeatedly twitching upwards. So, Santiago nods once, awkwardly, and gets up from the chair.

Minutes later, a small woman, with once blonde but now greying hair and Benny’s swimming-pool blue eyes, rounds the house and invites Santiago to stay for dinner. She has dark circles under her eyes and seems somehow frail, even though she can’t be older than forty, and Santiago can’t help but notice her slight limp as she leads them back to the house. She introduces herself as Hannah Miller and her palms are warm and her smile is kind when she takes his offered hand. Santiago feels his throat close up at the gentle hug she gives Benny and the way she softly tousles Will’s hair in greeting. He doesn’t even frown when she makes his hair even more spiky than before and just hovers next to her, hand almost touching her back as she walks but not quite. Her limp conjures up images of the bruise under Will’s eye and for a moment, Santiago can’t help but wonder if Benny sported any bruising as well, before Santiago met him.

With a tight feeling in his chest, Santiago declines her offer for dinner hastily and hopes, his smile doesn’t waver as he apologises. He mumbles his thanks to Benny for the nice afternoon and can’t help the quick glance at Will, who watches him with slightly narrowed eyes as Santiago stumbles through his explanation of having to do catching up on his algebra.

It’s not even a lie, Santiago thinks as he flees the warmth of the house and shoves the pull in his chest, the pathetic longing, as far down as it will go. He’s always done pretty well in school, but algebra he’s just hopeless at. How can anyone make sense of fucking _numbers_ , anyway? He’s good with words and language but numbers just seem to elude him completely.

Santiago is almost sure he can feel a pair of eyes watching him until he rounds the street corner, but he doesn’t look back to check whose it is. It takes his mom a week, eight days to be exact, to ask if he’s done something with his hair.

“You look different”, she says, foggy eyes trailing after him as he flees the kitchen. “Good-different.”

He pauses in the doorway, back turned towards her. He doesn’t turn around at her words, just nods, and hurries outside before she can ask him to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: 'Pope' catches on, Lorea reminds Santiago of his existence, and Santiago has a proposal.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Pope' catches on, Lorea reminds Santiago of his existence, and Santiago has an idea.

When Will comes back to school, he doesn’t really acknowledge Santiago at all. He sits in his usual spots in class, a few seats away from Santiago (the only exception being Spanish, where Will’s acquired an entire desk for himself now, which is right in between Santiago and Frankie), doesn’t talk much to anyone besides Frankie, and mostly keeps to himself.

During lunch breaks, though, when Benny comes to find Santiago and hums along with his guitar, distracts him from his homework, or trades food with him, Will starts to join them. He’s just as quiet as always and watches Santiago with such unsettling intensity, that sometimes he can actually feel the hair on his neck and arms stand up. He tries to focus on Benny instead, but Benny keeps saying stuff like “I like your face, Pope” and “You look really pretty today, you know that?” and Santiago can’t cope with it, doesn’t know how to handle Benny’s brutal honesty, and is left struggling for words. None of it is meant as a come-on, he knows, there’s no suggestive or mocking undertone or awkward touching – Benny just says whatever is on his mind, completely disregarding any societal norms for these kinds of statements. After a while, Santiago learns to just take it, accept whatever Benny has to say and move on, because usually Benny doesn’t require an answer and is just happily narrating whatever runs through his mind.

After a few awkwardly tense breaks, Will finally starts to relax a little. He starts ribbing Benny and sometimes they will even wrestle each other in the most violent-but-still-gentle way Santiago has ever witnessed (usually Benny wins and Santiago isn’t sure if Will actually lets his brother win like he says he does, or if Benny just wrestles better, plain and simple).

It’s steadily getting colder now and in October, Tom starts calling Santiago ‘Pope’, too, and tells him, he likes the new nickname. Santiago doesn’t know why, but the warmth that usually floods him whenever Tom talks to him, feels…different. Not as unsettling. He nods and smiles at Tom and is late to his next class, but it’s fine.

It’s fine right up until Chemistry, when Lorea smirks at him across the classroom and Santiago can feel his hands starting to shake. There hasn’t been much more than a strategical shove or an ‘accidental’ spilling of food or other liquids over Santiago’s notes for over a year now, but the implications of Lorea’s attention are still the same.

He’s tense for the entirety of the class but nobody comes up and spills any chemicals over him. In the end it’s his own nervous hands messing up as he jostles his test tube, spills its contents right into the Bunsen burner, and immediately an acrid smell spreads through the air.

“Garcia! What do you think you’re doing?”, Mrs Brown barks across the classroom and sniggering breaks out among the other students as she quickly kills the flame with a muttered curse. Santiago pulls his shoulders up at her angry muttering and feels his ears reddening when she says, just loud enough: “What is wrong with you? It’s not that hard to _not_ pour chemicals into open flames…” He can’t understand the rest through the blood rushing in his ears and the badly concealed laughter echoing through the classroom. For the first time in weeks, he wishes his longer hair back so he could hide his face behind it.

“Such an idiot”, a girl’s voice snickers and Santiago doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s Jessica.

“Didn’t know you were a pyromaniac as well, Saintie”, someone else hisses and the chuckles start up again. “There really is more than meets the eye, huh?”

“Maybe he was just so bad at stealing shit, they made him find something else to do”, Grant suggests, but he was too loud and Mrs Brown scolds them for chatting during class. Santiago ducks his head and doesn’t touch his Bunsen burner for the rest of the class, hoping they’ll move on soon. The acrid smell stays, though, so forgetting about Santiago and his stupidity, like he would prefer, seems highly unlikely.

After the bell rings, he clutches his books close to his chest so no one can slap them out of his hands when he leaves the classroom. Grant and Kyle flank him for a while, shoving against his shoulders and almost squishing him in between them, but eventually they leave off him to go to their next class, which is not Santiago’s next class, luckily.

When he enters the room for his Spanish class, he’s slowly starting to relax a little, when he gets shouldered aside by a smirking Lorea. He turns around to face Santiago and watch him stumble into the doorframe, while slowly walking backwards. “I have a theory, Saintie. Maybe you can help me?”

Santiago bites his lips, tightens his hold on the slipping books, and stares at the ground where Lorea’s feet have halted, barring the way through to the classroom. He tries to take a calming breath and closes his eyes for a second, preparing. ‘You’ve heard all this before’, he reminds himself. ‘Nothing you haven’t survived, yet.’

“Do you think you’re all messed up because your mommy was popping pills when she was preggo with you, or do you think all that crazy is just, well, _you?_ ” Lorea’s grin is just wide enough for Santiago to notice it, even though his eyes are wide and round, as though genuinely curious.

“Fuck you, Lorea”, Tom says and Santiago’s stomach drops when he sees all the faces over Lorea’s shoulder. Tom is standing, arms crossed in front of his chest and a dark expression on his face, while mostly everyone else is busy staring at nothing, playing deaf. Frankie seems to be sleeping, again, and – yep, there’s Will, too, silently watching. His eyes are narrowed, flickering between Santiago, Lorea, and Tom, and even from where Santiago is standing he can see Will’s clenched jaw. Great. So everyone just got a front-seat to the ‘making fun of Santiago’-show. Just awesome.

“I will not tolerate this kind of language in my classroom”, comes Mr Nelson’s voice from behind Santiago, where he’s approaching down the hallway. If he’s heard Lorea’s question from earlier, he doesn’t show it. Before Mr Nelson can reach Santiago, he’s ducked under Lorea’s arm and quickly slides into his seat, keeping his eyes firmly on his books.

“I’m sorry, Mr Nelson”, he hears Tom apologise. “Lorea’s vocabulary appears to have rubbed off on me. It won’t happen again.”

“While he may be a bad influence, Mr Davis, it does not excuse your use of expletives in my classroom”, Mr Nelson replies. There’s a pause – then: “Go on, sit down. Consider it a warning.”

“Thank you, Sir”, Tom replies evenly. This is probably why all the teachers like him: he’s just so… _reasonable_. And polite. Politeness probably goes a long way, too, Santiago guesses.

When he looks up, Will is watching him closely from the side with his lips pursed thoughtfully, and he doesn’t even avert is eyes, when Santiago catches him staring. Quickly, Santiago lowers his head again and thumbs through his book, looking for the page Mr Nelson just told them to open up. Again, Santiago wishes his longer hair back.

 

“This is wrong”, Will says the next day, pointing at Santiago’s algebra notes. They’re sitting at their usual table (which is still weird to Santiago…he’s never had a ‘usual table’ before, let alone people to share that table with) and Benny just left to find someone he can trouble for their strawberry-milk. Santiago had put his bag on the table and somehow Will seems to have pulled out his algebra notes and is now reading through them. Why, Santiago isn’t quite sure.

“Wh-what?”, he asks confused, but Will doesn’t answer. He’s busy scribbling right over Santiago’s notes with a pen he’s just procured out of nowhere. Santiago wants to protest, he’s not going to be able to read his notes later when he needs to do homework, and he’s already useless at algebra. But he closes his mouth almost immediately, because Will is probably not going to listen to him anyway.

While Will hasn’t laid a hand on Santiago since that day almost two months back now, Santiago can sometimes still feel the echo of Will’s fist wrapped around his wrists. Will hasn’t exhibited any inclination to beat Santiago up, though, and although he’s hard to read, Santiago is almost sure he could rightfully call their acquaintance a ‘friendship’ by now. He doesn’t seem to bother Will and sometimes Santiago thinks Will isn’t just unbothered by Santiago’s presence, but actually _likes_ him. He could be wrong of course, the last friendship he had was with Tom and it’s been years since that just sort of…ended.

Benny returns triumphantly with a carton of strawberry-milk and distracts Santiago with the epic tale of how he tricked the lunch-lady into giving him another one. When the bell rings sometime later, Santiago doesn’t have time to assess the damage Will’s scribblings have done to his notes. Later, at home, when he sees the handwriting that’s definitely not his, it takes him a second to remember how this happened. At closer inspection Santiago realizes they’re corrections. Loads and loads of corrections and little notes, short explanations of why it works this way and not the way Santiago tried.

Will corrected all three pages of Santiago’s algebra notes from today, and even took the time to put in some helpful clarifications. Santiago doesn’t know how to feel about it, he’s not sure what it means, and he sure as hell doesn’t know how to react to it. As he’s working through his notes and tries to do his homework, he miraculously gets to the right answer and it only takes two tries. Stunned, Santiago keeps going through the exercises and each time it gets easier until he can do it without even looking at his (Will’s) notes.

So, apparently, Will is somewhat of a genius with numbers, Santiago realizes. They don’t take the same maths classes, so he can’t be a hundred percent sure but from what he gathers from Will’s notes and corrections, Will must be bored out of his mind in his classes. Benny just shrugs and says “yeah, he’s always had a thing for numbers”, when Santiago asks him about Will’s history with math in general. Will scribbles over Santiago’s notes again, the next day, and the day after, too.

He doesn’t appear to be as good in other classes, though, Santiago notices when he starts paying attention to Will during the classes they do share. Will seems interested enough in their history class, but his Spanish is … well, it’s pretty terrible. Santiago knows, he shouldn’t judge, since he’s just in this class for the good grades he’s guaranteed to have (as is half the class, to be honest). It’s different for non-native speakers to learn the language, he realizes that, but still. Tom, although he could maybe pass as Latino appearance-wise, is not a native speaker and his Spanish is very good.

Maybe Tom as an affinity for the language that Will lacks, Santiago wonders, comparing their pronunciation during class. Where Will’s speech seems tilted and awkward, the search for the right words making him pause multiple times during one sentence, Tom speaks fluently and with so little pronunciation issues, he almost sounds like a native speaker. Slowly, a suggestion, a plan starts to form in Santiago’s mind, although it takes him almost until the end of November, to work up the courage and ask.

Even after all this time, neither Benny nor Will seem to be particularly interested in following Lorea’s example of treating Santiago, and they both even stayed with calling him ‘Pope’. Ultimately, that’s the reason why Santiago musters the courage to ask at all, even if it’s been almost a month since the idea started forming in his mind.

“Do you, um. Well, would you be interested in, ah”, Santiago stutters awkwardly through the speech he’d prepared earlier. They’re waiting for Benny to come out of swimming practice, and it’s cold and snowing so they’re huddled up inside, watching the swimming-pool’s entrance door through the glass-doors of the main entrance. Will slowly turns his head towards Santiago, his eyebrows lifting in question.

“Excuse me?”

Santiago flushes and shuffles his feet awkwardly. “Well, I mean…I’m kind of shit at algebra, you know? Clearly you do, you’ve obviously seen my notes, that was a completely pointless sentence, I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is – would you maybe wanna help me? With algebra, I mean?”

Wincing at his own inability to form proper sentences out loud, despite having written down his entire speech _and_ rehearsing it, Santiago chances a look at Will’s face. Which is completely useless, of course, since Will is expressionless as ever, grey eyes calmly watching Santiago unravel.

“I could help you with your Spanish”, Santiago dares to push after a few seconds of silence.

Over the past two months he’s come to understand one vital thing about Will: Benny is his first priority, always, and he protects his brother with a fierceness that makes Santiago wonder about what happened before they moved from Idaho. Once he understood this simple fact about Will, it made him almost predictable. Will isn’t a naturally aggressive person, he realized. To the contrary: usually, Will is very relaxed and calm, now that he feels certain Santiago has no intentions of hurting Benny in any way. The only times he’s so much as glared at Santiago were when he joined in on Benny’s annoying-Will-sport, and there has never been any intent behind it – just laughter and warmth.

“Like, I’m pretty good at Spanish but complete shit at algebra”, Santiago rambles on in an effort to explain himself, and tries to shrug nonchalantly. “You’re amazing at anything to do with maths and…ah, not so good with Spanish. It’s only logical.”

Will doesn’t react for another heartbeat, then he snorts and rolls his eyes.  
“’It’s only logical’?”, he mocks Santiago’s voice and bumps his shoulder against Santiago’s. “You can say it: I’m _shit_ at Spanish. Completely inept. It’s fine, I know it.”

“Okay, yeah, you’re pretty bad”, Santiago mumbles and receives another shove against his shoulder, this time harder.

Will points a finger at him. “You’re supposed to say ‘oh no, Will. Your Spanish is great!’”

Santiago feels a slow smile spread over his lips and he carefully calculates Will’s reach before he answers: “But you’re not. Do you really want me to lie to you?”

“Yes, dammit!” Will grabs at him but Santiago manages to evade his grasp, barely supressing an embarrassing giggle. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

Will gives him the finger along with a glare without any heat behind it, before he turns back to look through the glass-doors. Santiago deems the danger of getting trapped in a headlock to be over then, and resumes his position next to Will, shoulders bumping lightly. He contemplates asking again, but before he reaches a decision on whether he might be annoying Will with it, Will makes the decision for him.

“’s a good idea, actually”, Will says without taking his eyes from the entrance of the other building. Maybe he’s swaying on his feet, or maybe it’s Santiago who has lost his balance, but somehow it’s not just their shoulders touching now, it’s the length of their arms pressed together. Warmth seeps through the rough fabrics separating their bare skin and Santiago feels his arm tingle where Will’s body heat presses into him. Will doesn’t seem to notice and keeps his focus on the other entrance, lashes fanning his cheeks as he blinks slowly. “When do you wanna start?”

Santiago swallows and wets his lips, a fluttering low in his stomach that he doesn’t want to examine too closely right now. “How about next week?”

Will nods. The entrance to the swimming-pool’s building opens and people start streaming out. Benny isn’t in sight, yet. “Yours or mine?”

It takes Santiago a second to understand the question. His stomach flutters again, only this time it feels like it’s sinking instead of somersaulting. “I think yours would be better, um, first? Just…we can go to mine the time after.”

He can see Benny’s familiar mop of hair between the others now and he’s sure, Will has to see him, too, but Will doesn’t move. When Santiago looks at him questioningly, he’s pulled his forehead into a light frown.

“Okay”, Will says finally and Santiago releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

Will holds Santiago’s eyes for a long beat, then he pushes the door open and goes to meet Benny, whose entire face lights up upon seeing them, as though they haven’t been doing this for weeks now. He seems very cheerful at the prospect of seeing Santiago more around their house when Will tells him about their plans, and Santiago wonders if this is what friendship is supposed to feel like.

He’s still examining the flutter in his stomach when he gets home that afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The first tutoring session, a phone call, and there's an invitation.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first tutoring session, a phone call, and there's an invitation.

It’s a Wednesday when Santiago sees the inside of Will’s room for the first time. They walked home from school together, not really talking much, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. With Will, silences can be literally anything – Santiago experienced icy, content, tense, amused, annoyed, and companionable silences so far, depending on Will’s mood. He likes the comfortable silences best, just walking next to each other, arms brushing now and again, while wind whips through their hair and tugs at their clothes. It hasn’t snowed again, so the previous snow melted into grey-brown puddles on the floor, which now Santiago tries to avoid as best he can. His shoes, though warm, are not water-resistant and he would like to not have his feet dripping with icy water when walking through the Miller’s house.

Despite is best efforts, his socks are slightly damp when he toes his shoes off in the hallway, but they’re a dark colour so Will hopefully won’t notice. Will leads him down the narrow hallway and past the living room. There’s a bathroom right down at the end of the hallway, Santiago knows, but he hasn’t been in any of the other rooms.

Will’s room is opposite the bathroom. It’s narrow and kind of dark with only one window facing the road. There’s a bed in the corner next to the window, and a desk right under it to catch the little natural light filtering through the mostly drawn curtains. There’s a thin rug on the floor and a wardrobe pushed behind the door; quite sparse all in all, but it still almost feels crowded in the small room. Apart from the bed and the one chair under the desk, there are no other seating-options and Santiago hesitates, unsure where to sit down.

Will drops his bag to the floor by his desk and falls backwards onto his bed. Santiago closes the door behind himself quietly and sinks down on the carpet after a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m starving”, Will declares to the room, one arm thrown over his eyes. He sighs and lifts the arm an increment to blink at Santiago on the floor, who freezes in the middle of pulling his Spanish notes out of his bag. “You hungry, Pope? …what are you doing?”

“Thought I’d get ready”, Santiago shrugs.

Will scoffs. “Nope. I’m not going to work one second before I get some food inside me.” He swings his legs off the bed and sits up, looking at Santiago contemplating for a second. “And get up, you’re not sitting on my floor. Don’t be an idiot.”

Santiago wants to reply and explain that he doesn’t know how to not be an idiot but decides against it in the end. Instead, he gets up and gingerly puts down his stuff on the desk. Will motions for him to follow as he leaves the room and leads Santiago to the kitchen. He’s just poked his head into the fridge when the phone rings shrilly.

Santiago is leaning against the table and it’s only because he’s got his eyes on Will anyway, that he notices the way Will freezes. He can’t see Will’s face where it’s hidden behind the fridge’s door but he can see the tension rising in Will’s shoulders. He also notices the way the hand that had just been hanging loosely by his hip is clenched to a fist now. The phone rings again, its shrill tone echoing through the hallway and into the kitchen, clear and cutting.

Will waits for it to ring a third time before he shuts the fridge with quite a bit more vigour than necessary and walks by Santiago stone-faced. Santiago knows not to follow him. Much to his discomfort, he can still hear every word Will says when he picks up the phone mid-ring, though.

“Yeah? – No. Leave us alone – well, fuck you, that’s exactly what we – no, we’re not gonna talk to her, she ratted us out to you – yes, that is _exactly_ what I’m gonna call it – I don’t care, that’s your own problem – I’m not telling you – yeah, fuck you, too. Stop. Fucking. Calling.”

The receiver is violently rammed back in its place with a loud, unhealthy clattering sound. Then there’s a pause during which Santiago imagines Will closing his eyes and taking deep, calming breaths. His footsteps are heavy when he comes back into the kitchen and he walks right by Santiago without looking at him. Santiago feels his fingers cramping and he realizes he’s been digging his fingernails into the table’s underside.

Will has his head buried in the fridge again, when he asks: “So what’s the deal with you and Davis anyway?”

“…Tom?”

“No. The English teacher – yes, of course, _Tom_ ”, Will scoffs.

Santiago looks at his feet and cups the back of his neck, fighting down the heat he feels rising in his cheeks. “Um, well, we used to be friends. Kinda. Went to the same elementary school and all that. He’s…he’s always been nice to me, I guess?”

Will shuts the fridge a little too hard (again) and leans his back against it, to give Santiago the most aggressively deadpan expression he’s ever been subjected to. “’Nice’. He’s been nice to you, you guess?”

“I mean, he’s never just…stood by”, Santiago swallows with difficulty and has to fight every flight instinct he has to meet Will’s harsh look. “He always tries to help, when he thinks I’m in trouble.”

Will frowns and cocks his head to the side. The angry fire burning behind his eyes has lessened, but it isn’t gone. Santiago knows that fire, the need to take the anger out on someone – on him. That’s an expression he’s seen too often to not recognize now, even though this feels ten times worse because it’s Will and apparently Santiago was stupid enough to somehow believe, Will would never have a reason to look at him like that. He appears to have been wrong. Will scoffs: “You mean, he babies you.”

“No!”, Santiago protests and now it’s his turn to glare. “No, he’s – he’s never…look, we used to be good friends when we were younger, okay? That’s why he still looks out for me.”

Will’s mouth is pulled into a sour curve when he speaks again: “So then why aren’t you friends anymore?”

Santiago drops his eyes to the kitchen floor and stares at a spot on the grey tiles, right of his left foot. His socks still aren’t completely dry. “Kinda got…complicated.”

“What, like a relationship?”

Santiago knows, he _knows_ his head shoots up far too quickly, but he can’t help it. How is he supposed to answer that? The truth is too complicated for himself to understand fully. He just knows Tom was like the brother he’s never had until one day he wasn’t just that anymore. Until one day, Santiago got afraid to examine that feeling of admiration blooming in his chest whenever Tom smiled at him proudly and somehow…somehow that was that then. He stares at Will with wide eyes, whose sulking expression softens at whatever he sees on Santiago’s face. “No. No, it wasn’t like that. It was just…complicated.”

Will’s face seems completely closed off now and the seconds tick by agonizingly slowly until he pushes off the fridge. “Well, I’m not hungry anymore.”

Santiago frowns, confused and a little angry, but Will doesn’t meet his eyes again. He crosses the kitchen to the cabinet above the sink, out of which he pulls two bars of chocolate.

“C’mon”, he says and Santiago doesn’t know why, but he follows Will obediently back to his room with anger still churning in his stomach. Will crosses his legs as he takes a seat on his bed and when Santiago doesn’t go to sit on the chair, Will holds out the chocolate bar. “What a terrifically shitty day, huh?”

Santiago takes the chocolate for the peace offering that it is and sits down. Munching on their respective chocolate bars, silence fills the room once more and the afternoon sun breaks through the clouds outside, bathing everything in a fire-and-honey colour. It hits Will’s face dead on, and suddenly his eyes shine golden where they’re focused on Santiago and for a moment his heart stutters in his chest.

Clearing his throat, Santiago redirects his focus to his notes where they’re spread out over Will’s desk. “You wanna…um, you wanna start with algebra or Spanish?”

“Let’s start with your stuff”, Will says and his voice is smooth and soft and his eyes are apologetic, trying to convey what he doesn’t say. Santiago barely supresses the shiver running down his spine. He tries to cling to the remnants of hurt and anger from before, but they’re running through his grip like sand through his fingers and before he knows it there’s nothing left but Will’s golden eyes. He nods stiltedly and glues his eyes to his notes.

“Okay, let’s try and get through this”, Will mumbles and pulls Santiago’s algebra book into his lap. He guides Santiago through his homework quickly and surely, and Santiago can’t help but admire how Will can put complicated things into no more than a few words and manages to explain everything calmly. He makes Santiago do two more exercises and when he manages to do the last one without any mistakes, Will presents Santiago with softest and most heartbreakingly brilliant smile he’s ever seen. There’s a soft sort of pride in the light squint of Will’s eyes, that Santiago has only ever seen him direct at Benny, and Will’s lips are stretched soft and pink and revealing only the barest hint of pearly white teeth. It’s almost as though Will holds a fraction of the sun in his smile and it hurts Santiago in a weirdly comforting way to look directly at him.

They’re only just getting started on Spanish when Benny strolls in – with an ice cream cone in his hand, out of all things. Isn’t it November?

“’s not really fair, issit?”, Benny says munching on his ice cream while his eyes take them in. Santiago is ducked over Will’s Spanish book, pointing to the rules about conjugations, the very same Will is frowning at with his jaw set in frustration.

“Hello Benny”, Will sighs.

Benny crosses the room and starts nudging Santiago’s butt until he stands up from the chair. Benny sits down on it instead and puts his feet up on Will’s desk. Will frowns. Santiago decides, Benny is probably right, and sits down on the bed next to Will, so they can both look at the book without one of them having to read upside down.

“I mean”, Benny gestures to Santiago and licks a drop of ice cream from the corner of his lip. “You’re fluent, you’ve been speaking Spanish since you were little – well, you sort of still are. I mean, since you were a child –“ Santiago scowls. He’s not _that_ short. “- you don’t even have to really try and you’re probably still better than the teacher anyway.”

Santiago shrugs. “It’s an easy and guaranteed good grade.”

“On the other hand, I guess it is kinda fair with you being an algebra-disaster, though”, Benny contemplates.

“I – okay”, Santiago mumbles. ‘Algebra-disaster’, well that’s…pretty accurate probably.

“Don’t be rude. Pope just needs a little guidance, he’s not a _disaster_ , Benny”, Will scolds his brother and when Santiago looks at him in disbelief, Will is closer than he anticipated. The corners of his mouth lift a fraction and he shrugs at Santiago’s surprised look. “You learn pretty quick, actually, your algebra teacher probably just sucks.”

“Every teacher, though? During all of high school?”, Santiago doubts.

Will snorts. “Just take the fucking compliment, Pope.”

Santiago flushes and he ducks his head quickly to hide his heated face. His hair has grown out a little, but it’s still barely tickling his eyebrows, nowhere near long enough to cover his darkened cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Okay, now help Will to suck a little less at Spanish”, Benny demands and digs his socked foot into Santiago’s thigh, where he’s crossed his legs on Will’s bed. His ice cream is finished by now and Santiago finds, he doesn’t even want to ask where Benny got that from this time of year. 

“Fuck you”, Will tells him cheerily, kicks Benny’s foot off the bed and that’s when Santiago realizes their familiarity doesn’t make him uncomfortable anymore. He doesn’t feel like he’s intruding sat between them like this. It just feels…normal. The warmth spreading through Santiago has nothing to do with his proximity to Will (well, maybe a little).

Benny loses interest about five minutes later and leaves the door half open as he exits the room, when Santiago has Will write down a few sentences. Will’s vocabulary is pretty solid, actually, but he doesn’t have any grasp on the grammar at all. He doesn’t even structure the sentences like he would in English, the structure is just complete chaos.

But even in this, Will exhibits extraordinary patience no matter how dark his scowl gets. He doesn’t give up and he doesn’t even snap at Santiago, he just seems to grow more and more frustrated with himself. It’s not really a surprise, this patience of Will’s, but Santiago finds it impressive nonetheless. It’s been dark for an hour when they decide to stop and it’s only then that Will abandons his straight, focussed posture, sags back against the wall, and closes his eyes with a groan.

Santiago didn’t return to the desk after Benny left since this positioning on the bed is actually a lot more practical. He must’ve grown tired and tipped in Will’s direction, because their sides are pressed together now and have been for the past hour or so. Will doesn’t retreat, so Santiago doesn’t either and mirrors Will’s posture of leaning back against the wall and looking up at the ceiling.

“I don’t care how seductive it sounds, Spanish sucks”, Will grumbles after a minute of companionable silence. His eyes aren’t closed anymore when Santiago glances at him, but he has them focused on the ceiling.

Santiago shrugs. “Sorry, man.”

Will snorts and turns his head to meet Santiago’s eyes, blinking lazily. “Not your fault, Pope. You really gotta stop apologizing for shit you didn’t cause.”

Facing Will like this, close and direct, has Santiago’s heart thundering in his chest and he swallows dryly, forcing himself to keep the eye-contact when he shrugs in place of a reply. Will stares at Santiago, as though he’s trying to open up his forehead and look directly into his brain. Santiago can feel his palms starting to sweat, acutely aware of every puff of air caressing his face from Will’s breathing. Will’s eyes narrow an increment and Santiago is completely frozen, he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, trapped in the iron-grey of Will’s irises.

Down the hallway keys rattle in the lock and then Will blinks and the moment is broken. Santiago isn’t quite sure what just happened, _if_ anything even happened at all, but whatever it was, it’s gone now. Will doesn’t really lean away but there’s more space between them now and Santiago can move his limbs again.

“So”, Will says and clears his throat. He’s still looking at Santiago. “Saturday at yours then?”

As much as he tries not to, Santiago finally breaks the eye-contact and looks at his lap where he’s knotted his fingers together. “Um. Well…”

To his credit, Will waits for Santiago to finish for a few heartbeats before he speaks up: “Spit it out, Pope. What is it?”

Santiago frowns at himself. “Saturday is…Friday would be better?”

“Okay”, Will says slowly and shrugs when Santiago chances a look at his face. “I don’t care. Let’s make it Friday then.”

Relieved, Santiago nods. His mom is working Fridays, so he should be able to take Will home without running too high of a risk of having to introduce her to Will.

“Hello Pope”, Mrs Miller greets Santiago, when he walks by the kitchen where she’s cluttering about with some pots and pans. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“Good to see you, Mrs Miller”, Santiago mumbles and tries for a smile. He’s never seen a Mr Miller around the house or even heard him mentioned, and he doesn’t want to ask. Still, nobody corrects him when he calls her ‘Mrs’, so he simply assumes a Mr Miller exists or maybe used to exist. It’s not like his dad is around, either. “Thank you very much, but I have to get going, actually.”

“One day, I’ll just have to make you stay for dinner”, she threatens with a warm smile and Santiago ducks his head to hide the shy smile tugging at his lips. When he looks up, Will is looking at him with a dangerously thoughtful expression and Santiago hastily flees to pull his jacket on.

“You coming next week?”, Benny asks when Santiago has his hand already on the door-handle.

“Sure. Every Wednesday”, Santiago replies, pausing.

“Nah, I mean Saturday”, Benny shakes his head and throws Will a look, who’s buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, eyes calmly resting on Santiago. Somehow Will still seems to register his brother’s prompting eyes on him.

“My birthday”, Will explains without looking away, without blinking. “Mom is leaving us the house for the evening.”

 _Oh._ Santiago hangs his head. “I’m…I mean, thanks for the invite, but I’m not really one for parties.”

“’s not a party”, Will says and Benny is shaking his head when Santiago looks up again. “We’re probably gonna watch a movie or something, It’s just gonna be a few friends, really.”

Santiago hesitates. It sounds like there’s gonna be socialising and therefore very stressful, and he’s probably going to make an ass of himself as always.

“You can bring Davis, if you want”, Will says only now he doesn’t meet Santiago’s eyes and stares at the dark green tapestry of the hallway instead. He doesn’t sound very happy.

How Santiago would even go about asking Tom if he wants to come to Will’s not-a-party-birthday-party, Santiago doesn’t know. It’s true, Tom is a kind of comforting presence for him, but so are Benny and Will. Well, mostly comforting with a hint of unnerving.

Still, if Will is willing to let Santiago bring Tom, he must be actually serious about having Santiago there. In the end, that’s why Santiago nods. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll come.”

Will’s eyes flicker back to Santiago and he holds the eye contact for a heartbeat. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Santiago cooks, Will's insults don't feel like insults, and then there's the not-a-party-birthday-party.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santiago cooks, Will's insults don't feel like insults, and then there's the not-a-party-birthday-party.

By Thursday night, Santiago has the entire apartment cleaned so it’s presentable when he opens the door for Will on Friday afternoon. Thankfully, his mom seems to have gone to work as everything is quiet and empty when he leads Will to his room.

“You thirsty?”, he asks when he’s put his bag by the foot of his bed and turns around to Will standing by the door, looking around Santiago’s room. It’s is slightly bigger than Will’s, though not by much, and Santiago has used the free space for an extra chair. It’s old and second-hand from god-knows-where, but it’s almost as comfy as his bed and Santiago loves reading in it.

“Sure. How about some whiskey, hm?”, Will asks and starts laughing at Santiago’s expression. “Chill, Pope, I’m fine with water. Jesus, you look like you’ve never even heard of alcohol.”

“Have too”, Santiago mumbles defiantly and leads Will to the kitchen. “Can’t get to eighteen around here and never heard of alcohol.”

“You’re eighteen?”, Will asks trailing after Santiago and looking at the two framed pictures his mother hung up on the wall when they first moved in. One’s a picture of his mom and dad at their wedding, Santiago a tiny bundle of black hair and white blankets in his mother’s arms. The second one shows the extended Garcia family, back when his Abuela und Abuelo were still around. Santiago walks past quickly.

“Birthday was in August”, Santiago says by way of explanation and breathes relieved when Will stops looking at the pictures in favour of joining him in the kitchen.

“I’ll be eighteen in a week, so”, Will shrugs and watches Santiago fill two glasses of water. “Benny’ll turn seventeen in February.”

Santiago nods, makes a mental note of Benny’s birthday, and hopes he will still need this information by the time it rolls around. “Hungry?”

“Lunch would be nice”, Will says and Santiago recognizes the polite opening for him to decline, but he’s prepared. The apartment might be shabby and he doesn’t have money to spare for a haircut but at least he can plan ahead a little.

“Sure”, he says and throws Will a smile. “Pasta’s okay, I hope?”

Will nods and leaves his spot, where he’s hovering by the doorway. With two people in the kitchen, the room is a lot smaller at once but Santiago does his best to ignore that. He takes the container of pasta with tomato-sauce he prepared last night, when his mom was snoring on the couch, out of the fridge and pours its contents on two plates. The first one goes into the microwave and Santiago uses the time it takes to heat up, to collect cutlery for both of them and hands them to Will. “Will you take this to my room?”

Will nods and takes their glasses with him, too. Santiago follows when both plates of pasta are heated. He doesn’t mind slightly cooled off pasta, but maybe Will does so Santiago hands him the hotter plate.

“Your mom prepared this?”, Will asks halfway through his portion. Santiago left him the seat by the desk and took the bed instead, but Will just followed Santiago’s example and now they’re both sitting on Santiago’s bed. They’re probably going to get tomato-sauce on it and nobody is making use of the desk.

Santiago thinks for a moment but decides to go for the truth instead of the easy answer in the end. “No, I did.”  
He can feel Will’s look on the side of his face, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

“Well, well, so little Pope can cook”, Will says after a beat and his tone is teasing. “And you’ve hidden this from us?”

“It’s just pasta and tomato sauce, a literal infant could cook this”, Santiago shrugs with a half-smile. “Besides, I don’t want to have to feed both Benny and you – you guys eat like horses, I swear. Your poor mom.”

Will jostles him with an elbow to the side and Santiago barely avoids spilling tomato-sauce all over his bedspread. “You know, you always act so innocent but sometimes you can be a real bastard.”

“Me?”, Santiago pitches his voice higher and bats his eyelashes innocently at Will. Will snorts into his pasta and Santiago hides his accomplished smile in a spoonful of pasta of his own.

“So what do your parents do for work?”, Will asks later when Santiago is scrubbing their dishes in the sink. He’s leaning against the doorframe and watches Santiago’s movements calmly, dishcloth in hand and ready to dry the dripping plates Santiago’s going to hand him.

Santiago almost drops the plate he’s scrubbing into the sink. His knuckles are white when he readjusts his grip and he blankly stares at the dripping foam for a moment. “They’re…mom’s a nurse. My dad’s in Florida.” That doesn’t really answer Will’s question, but Will seems to feel Santiago’s reluctance to talk about this and he doesn’t ask any further. Santiago doesn’t know if he wants to shake Will in frustration or kiss him in gratitude. They clean the dishes in silence and by the end Santiago has managed to mostly relax again.

This time they try working simultaneously. Santiago has Will read one page and then write a few sentences about it, while he himself works his way through the exercises they got for homework. Because Will has to write more than Santiago does, he gets the spot by the desk and Santiago stays on the bed. Will has this habit of huffing in frustration whenever he gets stuck on something and it makes Santiago look up distractedly every time. Will doesn’t seem to notice, he just keeps frowning at the paper and chews on the inside of his lower lip in concentration. It’s…adorable is what it is. And very distracting.

Santiago keeps checking with previous examples, whether or not he’s taking the right steps, and that’s probably why it takes double the time to get through the exercises but in the end he’s pretty sure, he didn’t screw up too badly. He remembers most steps correctly, he just doesn’t really trust his memory as much as he trusts Will’s notes. In time, he’ll hopefully learn to rely a little less on those, but for now this is working out very well for him. Will still finds a few mistakes, but they’re usually minor and Santiago is actually a little impressed with himself.

“You’re a really fast learner”, Will praises him after they’ve gone through everything, and the proud smile he sends Santiago when he looks up from the paper, makes his stomach clench in a confusingly pleasant way. Santiago suppresses the urge to duck his head, to hide from Will, and manages an answering, if tentative smile. Will’s eyes crinkle at the corners and Santiago wants to map out his face so badly, he has to sit on his hands to not reach out and embarrass himself. “You’re not accounting for the parts of the equation you haven’t come across, yet, but we’re gonna get there. When you’ve got all the rules down, you’ll just have to recognize when to apply which one.”

Santiago nods once and the calm certainty Will’s projecting actually makes him believe that maybe, _maybe_ he can actually not suck at algebra.

Will’s approach to Spanish isn’t progressing as quickly as Santiago’s grip on algebra appears to (unless Will’s going easy on him, and Santiago just doesn’t realize). Will studied the grammar rules Santiago told him to memorize, but his usage of them is extremely static.

“You gotta account for the dynamic of the language, you see?”, Santiago tries to explain. “Just like in English, the rules of structuring sentences, the order in which to use these words, they don’t apply in all cases. The order changes when the sentence-structure does, so you gotta recognise that and change it up accordingly.”

Will pulls his forehead into a frown and looks at the sentence, Santiago is pointing to. “But the rules…” He trails off and huffs in frustration. “What’re the rules even good for if they don’t apply most of the time?”

“They do”, Santiago insists. “Just not, like, ninety percent of the time. It’s more like sixty or seventy percent with some rules.”

“That’s a bullshit rule then”, Will mumbles and Santiago would never say anything, but Will is honest to god pouting at the book, as though it has personally insulted him. _Again_ with the adorableness.

Santiago reads a few of Will’s sentences out loud and then he reads them again the way they would sound were they structured correctly. That seems to perk Will up a little, instead of staring down ink on paper and trying to derive meaning from it, Will watches Santiago intently and focuses on listening. The intensity would make Santiago blush under normal circumstances, but after a few heartbeats he realizes Will isn’t even really watching his face, he’s just focussed on the sound of Santiago’s voice.

“You know, when you speak the sentences I wrote out loud, I can actually hear how they sound all wrong”, Will muses, tapping his lower lip with his forefinger. “Go on, read them to me and I’ll try and come up with better sentences.”

And that’s what they do and to Santiago’s surprise it actually seems to work. It also lifts Will’s mood significantly and by the end he almost sounds excited when he suggests improvements to whatever Santiago is reading to him.

He bites his lips, but the grin still makes its way on his face, whenever Will tries to pronounce the Spanish words. At first, Will doesn’t seem to realize at first, but after a while he catches on. Instead of getting self-conscious about it, like Santiago would, Will narrows his eyes at him and starts pronouncing the words deliberately wrong until Santiago can’t hold in his laugh anymore and snorts.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”, Will tells him dryly, but Santiago can see the mirth lurking in his eyes. Will has called him names twice in one afternoon now, but instead of making Santiago shrink in on himself like he usually does, Will’s way of insulting him just seems to result in a rush of warmth and giddiness through Santiago’s entire body.

“Just because you can pronounce all this gibberish all perfect and sexy, doesn’t mean you can laugh at poor old me”, Will complains. “I’m trying my best here and you’re not being encouraging.”

“I’m sorry”, Santiago tries to apologise but laughter is still audible in his voice and his lips keep twitching. Then the words sink in and his face heats up. _Sexy_. Will called Santiago talking Spanish ‘sexy’. 

“So you do listen”, Will says quietly and Santiago realises he didn’t duck, he just froze and now he’s staring at Will, red face on full display.

“Wh-at?”, he croaks confused and unable to look away from the soft smirk playing on Will’s lips.

Will watches him silently smiling for another moment, then he leans forward slowly. He rests his elbows on his knees and now his face is much closer to Santiago, who’s still bent over the Spanish book resting upside down in his lap. “I’ve been telling you for a while now, how much I like your voice and that the way you talk is…fascinating. I like to listen to you talk, it always feels like there’s nothing more important than what you have to say in that moment.”

Santiago momentarily can’t remember how to breathe and his eyes are tearing up, because he hasn’t blinked since Will started talking. He’s aware his mouth his opened slightly and trying to form words, but his brain is utterly devoid of anything beyond _Will_. Will and _whatwhatwhatWHAT?_. With great difficulty he manages to blink once.

“Only”, Will continues and his voice is very soft now, almost as soft as his eyes and Santiago tenses up, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You don’t really talk that much, do you? I wish you wouldn’t let people talk over you, all the time.”

Santiago’s eyes start burning again, but this time it’s not to combat dryness. He swallows dryly and tears his eyes away from Will’s. The silence stretches longer and longer until Santiago realises Will is waiting for him to actually reply. Awkwardly he mumbles: “Can’t beat them all up, can I?”

“Oh, you could”, Will says. His voice is deliberately light. “You’ll get suspended for three weeks, but you _could_.”

Santiago hesitates and debates whether or not to take the offered out and continue with the lighter tone. When he chances a look at Will again, he hasn’t leaned back, is still right there and his eyes are still so unbearably soft. Santiago doesn’t know if he wants to run away from it or wrap himself up in that softness and never let go. “I don’t like…hurting people. Like. Physically.”  
Will’s eyes narrow and Santiago hastens to add: “Not that, you know, _you_ do. I just…I’m gonna defend myself when they try and use me as a punching bag. But. I’m not gonna start anything, yeah?”

Santiago isn’t sure what it is that he said, but at some point in the past few seconds Will has shut down and his face is carefully blank by the time Santiago stops talking. Will nods stiltedly. “I get it.”

The softness doesn’t return to Will’s eyes for the rest of the afternoon. When Will’s putting on his jacket in preparation to leave, Santiago is a nervous wreck and desperate to come up with something to elate the strange tension.

“Tomorrow at nine. You’re still coming right?”, Will asks when he’s zipped up his jacket.

Santiago immediately latches on to the friendlier tone. “Yes! Yeah, still coming.”

“Good.” Will nods and it’s less stiff this time. He’s turned towards the door but halts with his hand on the doorknob. Santiago chews on his lip nervously, waiting. “Cause I told Davis to come, too. Would be very awkward tomorrow, if you weren’t there.”

For the second time today, Santiago is at a loss for words. After a few seconds of silence, Will pulls the door open.

“Thank you, Will”, Santiago says and it’s so quiet he doubts Will even heard it. But Will pauses again and then he turns around, a lopsided smile on his lips as he reaches out to touch Santiago’s shoulder.

“Of course, Pope”, he says and his thumb brushes Santiago’s clavicle, where his collar shifted to the side a little. The door’s closed before the goosebumps are finished spreading over Santiago’s skin.

 

On Saturday night, Tom picks Santiago up and follows his instructions to the Miller’s house. Santiago briefly wonders how Will could have forgotten to give Tom his address when he invited him (and how on earth did that invitation even _happen_?). How would Tome have made it to Will’s birthday party if Santiago hadn’t come, too? He quickly abandons that line of thought, though, when Tom starts talking to him.

“So, you’ve been good?”, he asks and throws Santiago a fleeting smile before focussing back on the road. “Been quite a while since we spent time together.”

Santiago hears the underlying question but he also knows Tom is not going to push him for the answer. Tom never pushed him to do anything, ever. When Santiago started overthinking everything he said and made things so weird that he distanced himself more and more from Tom, Tom never pushed for answers. He didn’t try and keep Santiago as close as they were before, he gave Santiago all the space he wanted until it was so much space that the word ‘friendship’ just didn’t fit anymore.

“Yeah”, Santiago says and points to the Miller’s house coming into sight. “Same as always, you know me. It’s that house down there.”

“Good”, Tom says with a genuine, if small smile, as he kills the engine. He reaches behind his seat and pulls out a six-pack before exiting the car. Santiago clutches his jacket in his arms and looks at the lit-up windows of the small house. He’s wrapped his present inside the jacket, unsure if it’s a good present or if he’s even gonna give it to Will. He had said not to buy presents and technically Santiago didn’t buy anything, but still…

Tom waits for Santiago to push the doorbell, who holds onto his jacket tightly and can feel his heart jumping to his throat when he hears the shrill sound echoing through the hallway. It all fades the second he hears Benny bound towards the door, shouting something Santiago can’t quite make out. Then the door gets pulled open and Benny is on him the next second, both arms wound tightly around Santiago and lifting him up. Santiago still isn’t quite used to it but at least it doesn’t make his brain shut down in shock anymore.

“Good to see you, Pope!”, Benny beams as he sets Santiago down again.

“Hey Benny”, Santiago greets and mirrors Benny’s smile. It’s hard not to smile at Benny anyhow, and even more so when he’s got a huge grin plastered across his face like he does now.

“And you must be Tom”, Benny says looking past Santiago’s shoulder. Tom hasn’t moved but there’s a smile in his dark eyes, watching the interaction before him closely. Self-consciously Santiago’s grin turns a little lopsided.

“That’s me”, Tom confirms and offers his hand. Benny takes it with a firm grip and Santiago is a little surprised to see that Tom is still taller than Benny. “I brought beer – hope that’s fine with you?”

Benny’s eyes drop to the six-pack Tom is holding loosely in his other hand. “Yeah, sure.” He drops Tom’s hand and hesitates for a second. “Will’s not, uh, huge on alcohol. He doesn’t mind, don’t worry, but, like, don’t be surprised if he doesn’t...y’know, drink.”

Tom nods slowly and for a moment, Santiago is worried about the awkwardness he can feel rising. Then Tom sighs and looks at the six-pack remorsefully. “Damn, this was my replacement-present since he said he didn’t want anything. Couldn’t’ve gotten it more wrong if I tried, could I?”

Benny shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Nobody’s fault the bastard is so extra. C’mon in you two - let's not keep the birthday boy waiting, eh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Tom is being Tom, Frankie knows what's good, and light-switches are overrated.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is being Tom, Frankie knows what's good, and light-switches are overrated.

“Everyone else already here?”, Santiago asks while taking off his shoes and carefully handling his jacket, so the present doesn’t fall out.

“Yup”, Benny says and gestures for them to follow him to the living room, from where music is drifting down the hallway. “Just waiting for Frankie.”

Turns out, apart from Frankie, nobody else was invited and Santiago instantly feels even more awkward for having brought a present. Will hugs him in greeting and his eyes are warm and soft again and Santiago can feel the relief flooding his body instantly. Will tells them to throw their jackets in his room, since the hooks on the wall by the door are occupied, and Santiago takes Tom’s jacket with him and places them on Will’s desk. When he comes back, both of them are watching each other with slightly narrowed eyes, and Santiago immediately regrets leaving them alone in the room together.

Then Benny comes in with half-burnt pizzas and coke bottles for everyone and the tension evaporates just like that. Santiago accredits only half of the reason to the pizza, the other half is all Benny and his endless, wondrous ability to just be and let be.

They dig into the pizza and Benny gets himself, Tom, and Santiago a beer and launches into a discussion about which movie to watch later. Santiago sips from his beer gingerly – he has drunk beer before, of course, but not often enough to have gotten used to the taste. Tom and Benny argue over _The Big Lebowski_ or _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_ until the doorbell rings again but Will stays put on the sofa, next to Santiago. He’s quietly fiddling with the music and munching on his pizza, his left knee pressed up against Santiago’s thigh where Will has crossed his legs. With an enthusiastic “got it!” Benny gets up from where he’s sprawled on the floor and goes to let Frankie in.

“Something specific you wanna listen to, Pope?”, Will asks absentmindedly, without looking up from where he’s frowning at the stereo. He does look up, however, when Tom starts laughing softly.

“If his tastes haven’t changed, I don’t think Pope’s taste in music is the best background noise”, Tom explains with a shrug, when Will frowns at him questioningly. Tom throws an apologetic look towards Santiago, but he knows Tom is not trying to be mean. He’s right, after all.

“Pope?”, Will prompts him and lifts his eyebrows in question.

“Yeah”, Santiago nods and tries to fight down the embarrassment building in his throat. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. “Metal.”

Will’s face changes from an initial ‘okay, you’re right’ to surprise and then an almost impressed nod. “Wow. Yeah, no, that doesn’t really fit now.” He sends Santiago an assuring smile as though to make sure Santiago isn’t offended, and then shrugs: “That is not what I’d have expected of you, Pope. You’re full of surprises.”

Santiago can feel the heat rising up in his face once again, but luckily that’s the instant Frankie chooses to enter the room, arms spread wide and with a bottle of liquor in one hand and a suspicious little case made out of fabric in the other. “Greetings, peasants!”

 

Santiago is warm, too warm. He’s only wearing a t-shirt and it’s clinging to his skin uncomfortably, as are his jeans. If he moved away from where he’s squeezed in between Tom and Will, he’d probably cool off at least a little, but somehow that doesn’t seem like a good idea. His head is too heavy and he’s leaned it back against the backrest of the sofa some ten minutes ago, staring up at the ceiling and wondering when everything started to get so…swirly.

“You okay, Pope?”, Benny drawls from somewhere by Santiago’s feet. He might not have accepted Frankie’s offer, but he definitely compensated with the alcohol and can’t be feeling much steadier than Santiago.

“Never tried weed before?”, Tom asks and his eyes aren’t droopy, like Santiago’s, and it’s totally unfair. He does look kind of tired though, so there’s that.

“Yes, I have”, Santiago grumbles and scowls at Tom. His protectiveness gets kind of annoying after a while. Or maybe it’s the weed. Still. He’s Tom.

“Never tried mine, though”, Frankie says smugly and even without looking at him, Santiago can tell he’s grinning. Frankie claimed the only armchair for himself and has draped himself over it like some sort of roman emperor. With a very chaotic head of hair and slightly red-rimmed eyes. But still a roman emperor.

Will stuck to coke and Tom and Santiago kept to their one can of beer – Tom, because he needs to drive home later, and Santiago because he doesn’t feel like it – so Benny and Frankie claimed the rest of the beer for themselves before moving on to the liquor Frankie brought. Almost as an afterthought, because Will ‘missing out on all the fun’ was unacceptable as he was the birthday boy, Frankie offered them a joint. To Santiago’s surprise, Will accepted easily, and he made a mental note that Will’s aversion to drugs was apparently limited to alcohol. Benny declined the offer because he didn’t want to mix too much alcohol with weed and Tom declined because of the driving again. Santiago hadn’t drunk more than half his can of beer, yet, and when Will got up, he’d shrugged and followed Frankie and Will outside. It was freezing cold, but Will didn’t want the house smelling of weed so that was that.

Frankie had given Will and Santiago a joint to share and rolled another one for himself, and half a joint shouldn’t have knocked Santiago off his feet, like it did, but apparently Frankie’s weed works differently.

“’s very strong”, Will agrees from Santiago’s left and he turns to face Will purely out of reflex. He’s miscalculated, apparently, because his nose hits Will’s shoulder and since he is already there, Santiago simply adjusts the positioning of his head so it rests more comfortably. Will just shifts his arm from where he rested it behind Santiago, so his fingers can play with Santiago’s hair, and that’s probably the best feeling Santiago’s felt all day. With a sigh he curls closer to Will and his eyes drift shut. Will smells good; a little sweaty, a little like weed and pizza, and a little like the cold, clear winter air.

 _Dazed and Confused_ is playing in the background but Santiago has already seen it so he doesn’t feel too bad for not watching. The fingers at his nape are pleasantly cool and when they stop for a second, Santiago shifts to make them start up again. It takes him a moment to notice the warm puff of air on the top of his head, tousling his hair there, until – is Will nosing his hair? Santiago shivers a little and he’s not sure if he’s too hot or too cold.

“Brought you a present”, Santiago mumbles sleepily into Will’s shoulder.

“You did?”, Will murmurs back and yeah, Santiago can feel his lips moving on the top of his head. Will is definitely nuzzling Santiago’s hair.

“Mhm”, Santiago affirms. “You said, I shouldn’t buy you anything, I know, but technically I didn’t buy it so… Not that I stole it, or anything”, he adds hastily when he realises how that sounds. “It was mine, but I thought you might like it, so. I didn’t steal it.”

Will chuckles. “Okay.”

“No”, Santiago insists and struggles to sit up straighter, so he can look Will in the eye. “I really didn’t.”

“Okay, yeah”, Will says slowly and there’s a crease forming between his eyebrows now. “I believe you – never said you did.”

Santiago searches but he can’t find the lie that’s sure to be somewhere in Will’s tone or eyes or expression, and so he settles back down slowly. He doesn’t know how long they stay curled up together like that, but it must’ve been a while because he’s much more sober when Tom taps his shoulder.

He’s standing over them, jacket slung over his arm and dark eyes focussed on Santiago when he says: “I need to get home soon, I promised my mom I’d be home before two.”

Santiago sits up and rubs his eyes, his foggy brain catching up slowly. Thank god he didn’t drink that much alcohol – drunkenness lasts way longer than the relatively short high from weed. Though, Frankie’s stuff really did hit him hard. “Uhm. Okay?”

“You want a lift home?”, Tom clarifies and this time his eyes briefly flicker to Will. Will has stopped playing with Santiago’s hair but his arm is still on the backrest behind him.

“Uhm”, Santiago mumbles again and grimaces at the dry taste on his tongue. Did he actually fall asleep or did he just doze off for a few minutes? His brain still feels like it’s wrapped in in candy floss, but he can also feel the pleasant fuzziness waning and the nervousness and shame lurking underneath. Yeah, he’s not looking forward to that coming back – sometimes his mother makes sense.

“You can stay a little longer if you want, Pope”, Will offers and now Tom’s eyes are entirely focussed on him, the suspicious glint barely concealed anymore. “I’ll walk you home later.”

None of this is said to Santiago’s face and it confuses him even more. Struggling to put his thoughts into any kind of order he frowns and pushes himself off of Will’s side, where he apparently just sunk back to in the span of two sentences. A rustling behind him indicates Will retracting his arm from behind Santiago and a surprisingly clear _No. Keep it there. Stay._ flashes through his mind. He can feel his face heating up, even though he’s not quite clear enough yet to realise what it was that he’s embarrassed about now.

“Oh, will you now?”, Tom says and sarcasm is so out of character for him, that it takes Santiago a moment to recognise. Tom is looking at Santiago again and his face crumples in that earnestly worried way of his. “It’s really no trouble for me to drive you home, Pope.”

Santiago’s first instinct is to say ‘yes’ and follow Tom. Tom is nice and responsible, Tom looks after Santiago and Santiago trusts Tom. That’s like…a law of nature or something. If Tom thinks it’s a good idea for Santiago to go home now, he’s probably right.  
But then Will shifts beside him and suddenly the fact that his thigh is pressed up against Will’s and he’s been napping _on Will’s shoulder_ for the past however-long-that-was, cuts clear through the fog surrounding Santiago’s brain. He can’t help it: his head turns on its own and then he’s gaping at Will with an expression that probably makes him look like a startled owl. Will stops staring Tom down and meets Santiago’s eyes instead and there it is again, that soft expression that has Santiago’s stomach somersaulting. The corners of Will’s mouth lift up as if on their own accord and then he says: “If you wanna stay a little longer, I promise I’ll walk you home.”

And there is no other option, there really isn’t, and so Santiago weakly mumbles out a “yeah, okay” and marvels at the way Will’s entire face lights up, even though his expression barely changes. How does he do that? How does he prevent his facial muscles from moving but still manages to display emotion? Santiago is mesmerised.

Tom makes Santiago promise to call him once he’s home, before he finally leaves with one last lingering glance at Will. Santiago only realizes the music has stopped playing, when he hears the engine of Tom’s car rumbling and then fading. Benny and Frankie are deep into a mumbling conversation amongst themselves. Benny is on his back on the floor, arms and legs spread out like a starfish, and Frankie is lounging on the armchair with his legs dangling off the armrest, head tilted to the side, eyes almost closed. They don’t pay any attention to Santiago or Will.

“Pope?”, Will asks quietly and Santiago jumps a little, because his voice is so close and when he turns his head, Will is right there. He’s leaning into Santiago’s space, warmth radiating off of his body, and his eyes are solely focussed on Santiago – two pools of melted ice, cool and calm and clear, but there’s unrest underneath, deep swirls of something Santiago can’t name. “Can I see my present now?”

“Oh”, Santiago needs a moment to remember how to use words. “Uhm. Yeah, sure.”

Heart in his throat, Santiago gets up and leads the way to Will’s room, where he left his jacket. Will follows close behind, so close he accidentally brushes the back of Santiago’s shirt with his hand twice. Maybe the weed is affecting Will more than he’d let on? Santiago is feeling pretty sober by now – palms sweating and mind racing – but maybe Will’s coordination is still compromised.

Will’s room is dark apart from the light of the street-lantern outside filtering through the half-drawn curtain. It’s eerily quiet in here, both their breathing sounding unnaturally loud in the small space. Santiago is not sure where the light-switch is and Will seems happy to follow after him in almost complete darkness.

Santiago finds his jacket on Will’s desk, where he’d put it down, but instead of rolled up and around the present, it’s sitting on top of the jacket. Tom. He must’ve found it somehow and Santiago isn’t quite sure how to feel about that but he doesn’t have time to really think about it, because when he halts, Will almost stumbles into him and hot breath fanning over Santiago’s nape is entirely too distracting.

“It’s, uhm, it’s not much, I – “, Santiago stammers uncertainly and thrusts the package into Will’s hands, not quite able to meet his eyes.

Will is quiet while he unwraps the present carefully, he doesn’t shred the paper at all and, really, Santiago should’ve known Will open presents like this. He drops the wrapping-paper onto his bed and turns the book in his hand. It’s old and obviously been read many times, the fairly slim spine is broken, marking all of Santiago’s favourite parts, and the pages are worn. When Will tilts it just so, the title catches the dim light of the street-lantern.

“ _’The Little Prince’_ ”, Will reads out loud and somehow his voice is quiet enough to not shatter the silence in the room.

When he doesn’t say anything else, Santiago starts rambling nervously: “It’s – I’ve read it, like, a million times and it’s not very long and easy to read and, well, it’s just about learning about other people and being kind and not getting stuck in your own world and that sort of stuff, yeah, and I just thought…I mean, maybe you already know it, but i-if not it’s worth the read, I promise.”

When he looks up to meet Will’s eyes, the words die in his throat. He can’t make out much in the dim light but Will is wearing that soft expression again, only there is no trace of a smile, this time. Santiago swallows nervously, unsure if that’s a good or a bad sign. “Pope.”

“It’s all shabby and used, isn’t it? I’m sorry about that. You did say not to buy any presents, though, so I thought, I just thought…” Santiago trails off again and gestures to the book in Will’s hands helplessly. Will seems very close right now, so Santiago takes a step back and finds he doesn’t get very far until the backs of his thighs hit Will’s desk.

When he looks from the book back up to Will’s face, Will follows him again and now the light of the street-lantern illuminates his face. His lashes are lowered as he takes the small step back into Santiago’s space, and the way he’s holding the book seems like he’s cradling something very precious to his chest.

“I, uhm”, Santiago is running out of things to say and there’s nothing to look at except for Will. He’s almost sure his ribs are getting bruised from the inside with the way his heart is beating against them. “….I really liked the book, so, I guess, I just thought maybe – maybe you’d like it, too.”

“Pope”, Will says again and Santiago’s name has never sounded choked like this. Then Will lifts his eyes and meets Santiago’s wide, panicked eyes. Slowly he leans in and in, eyes locked to Santiago’s, until he can’t see anything but Will’s face and their noses are almost touching. Will pauses there and Santiago can actually hear him swallowing over the rush of blood in his ears. “I’m…am I misreading this?”

“No.” The word is out before Santiago’s brain catches up and he can feel his cheeks flaming, but this is not the time to duck his head and hide his face. So he sets his jaw in determination, tilts his chin up a fraction, and keeps the eye-contact.

Still, it’s kind of surprising when Will’s lips meet his. They’re dry and a little chapped and warm, so warm, and somehow Santiago’s skin suddenly feels stretched too tight over his bones. The pressure is barely there and they stare at each other for a long moment, mouths pressed together awkwardly. Then Santiago pushes back tentatively and when Will moves his lips, Santiago’s eyes flutter shut on their own accord.

It’s weird, tasting someone else’s mouth, but it’s not unpleasant. And then Will tilts his head just so and their mouths slide together in a wholly different way, that has hot and cold shivers running down Santiago’s spine, and he realises Will has probably done this before. Not only that, he’s done it enough times to be _good_ at it, too.

But Santiago doesn’t know how to feel shy about it, not when Will catches his chin between thumb and forefinger and presses close, closer, until Santiago almost loses his balance. He grabs for Will and somehow ends up fisting Will’s shirt by his hips, holding on tightly. There’s a prickling sensation of Will’s stubble rubbing against his skin, and his breathing is sharp and too loud between them as he pushes back against Will, trying to get closer, get more of that soft, delicious slide. Before he can get self-conscious about it, Will’s grip on his chin tightens and Santiago’s breath hitches when suddenly there’s a soft, slick pressure between his lips. Santiago can’t concentrate on anything but Will’s tongue, everything feels hot and wet and he can’t breathe and it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

It’s like Will can sense Santiago struggling because he backs up a second later. Santiago feels dizzy and fuzzy all over again, and he doesn’t release his grip on Will’s shirt until his balance returns. Will doesn’t move away far, though, just lets go of Santiago’s chin and slides his hand around until his palm rests at the base of Santiago’s throat. They rest their foreheads against each other and just breath the same air for a few heartbeats until Santiago realises his eyes are still closed.

When he opens them Will’s face is darkened in the shadow between them but he’s close enough for Santiago to make out the flush of pink high on his cheeks, and his breath comes shallow and quick. He’s staring right back at Santiago and he’s pretty sure, he’s never seen Will’s eyes quite this open and vulnerable.

It’s nerves more than anything that make Santiago’s mouth twitch and then they’re grinning at each other like idiots.

“Fuck”, Will breathes and dives in again for a short, soft press of lips, and Santiago didn’t know you could feel a smile being pressed into your mouth but now that he does, he decides is his new favourite sensation.

Santiago can’t meet Benny’s or Frankie’s eyes when he goes to say goodbye, but hopefully they’re too stoned/drunk to notice his reddened face. Will walks him home like he promised and the cold night-air isn’t so cutting, when Will has an arm slung around Santiago’s shoulders.

“Thank you”, Will mumbles into Santiago’s mouth where they’ve hidden in the shadows between two street-lanterns in front of the apartment complex. They must’ve been standing there for at least ten minutes, because Santiago’s cheeks are getting numb and his fingers are freezing where he’s twisted them into the lapels of Will’s jacket. He’s dizzy again and he knows there are questions that need answering and things to be said, but he can’t focus with Will’s taste on his tongue and his heart beating in the back of his throat. Will’s hands have found their way to Santiago’s hair somehow, where he’s buried his fingers and gently caresses Santiago’s scalp. Santiago can’t supress the full-body-shiver. “For the present. For coming.”

Santiago licks his lips and tastes Will. He struggles to open his eyes and his voice is hoarse when he says: “Of course.”

Santiago’s legs aren’t all that steady when he lets himself into the apartment twenty minutes later and he’s cold and hot and shivering, his lips are swollen and he feels ready to burst, even if he’s not sure if into tears or laughter. The clock tells him it’s almost four in the morning and he debates whether or not to call Tom at this hour. He promised, though. The annoyance in Tom’s voice dissipates quickly when he realises who’s calling.

When Santiago hangs up and tiptoes to his room, he finds his mother passed out on the couch snoring loudly, and he realises he needn’t have whispered at all. She’s out cold. He throws a blanket over her and then lies awake for another hour, lips and hands prickling with the memory of Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: They talk and Will accidentally meets Santiago's mother.


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk and Will accidentally meets Santiago's mother.

At school on Monday, there isn’t much of a difference to their interactions. Instead of nodding in acknowledgement, Will smiles when Santiago enters the classroom, and during lunch break they sit a fraction closer together than usual. Santiago realises only now how much they’ve been touching for the past two months or so. Benny doesn’t act any different at all, so Santiago isn’t sure if Will told him – if Benny knows.

What exactly it is, that Benny might or might not know, Santiago can’t really name. It’s the reason why Will tangles their feet under the table during lunch and why his ruffling of Santiago’s hair before AP Spanish feels more like a gentle carding through. Bottom line is: either Benny doesn’t know or he just could not care less.

After the last period has ended, Will inconspicuously brushes his fingers over the back of Santiago’s hand. “Can I come over today?”

Santiago thinks for a moment back to when he left the apartment this morning, trying to decide if it’s in a respectable state. Then Will’s index finger curls around his pinky for half a second and suddenly the state of his room is clearly completely irrelevant.

“Yeah”, he breathes and smiles shyly up at Will, who quirks the corners of his mouth upward in an answering smile.

“Great”, Will nods and fingers the strap of his backpack while they trail after the last students exiting the classroom. “I’ll just let Benny know we’ve got another tutoring session today, real quick, yeah?”

“I’ll wait by the main entrance”, Santiago agrees and makes sure not to watch Will walk down the hallway in the opposite direction.

Fiddling with the zipper of his jacket, Santiago positions himself to the side of the main entrance and watches hordes of students streaming out of the building. He wonders if Will might want to kiss him again. He would like to kiss Will again, Santiago decides, remembering how exhilarating kissing Will had felt. Afraid his thoughts might show on his face, he ducks his head and contemplates waiting outside, where the redness of his cheeks can easily be explained by the winter-cold air. In the end he stays inside, where he doesn’t have to put his jacket and shoes to the test.

The harder he tries not to think about Will inappropriately, so his blush might die down, the more difficult it seems to get until he can feel where Will’s hands were on his body not two days ago, as if they’d left imprints. The warmth in his chest cools of pretty quickly, though, when he spots Lorea and Kyle walking towards him.

Usually Santiago would turn and try to slink away, maybe hide in between a few other students until Lorea is out of side. Today, that’s not an option, though. He said he’d wait here for Will, so he has to stay until Will comes back, even though the steady stream of students filtering out of the building has died down to a trickle by this point.

Lorea halts in front of him and Santiago is already tense enough to strain a muscle. He keeps his back straight and head high, but he still lowers his eyes and avoids looking at Lorea directly. That’s just not a good idea, especially when he’s this close to Santiago’s face.

“What’s your new nickname again, Saintie?”, Lorea sneers and tilts his head. Santiago glances at Kyle standing behind Lorea with his broad shoulders and barrel chest, ready to do whatever Lorea tells him to. “Something catholic, wasn’t it? Something like Cardinal or Bishop or some shit.”

Santiago doesn’t answer – he doesn’t nod but he doesn’t correct Lorea either. Lorea seems dissatisfied with his lack of response and takes a step back, a look of pure disgust on his face. “It really is a shame you’re so fucking poor”, he muses and shakes his head ruefully. “There’s absolutely nothing, nada, to gain from you, you know that? I can’t get the smallest bit of money out of you, because you don’t have any, and you don’t have any skills or contacts _at all_ , let alone useful ones. There’s just absolutely nothing profitable about you – you really are good for nothing, little Saint.”

Santiago swallows with some difficulty, his heart fluttering in his chest like a caged bird, while his brain is screaming at him to run, just run away. He forces himself to meet Lorea’s eyes, to really look at him head on, even though he wants nothing more than curl up in the farthest, darkest corner he can find and hide away. Lorea’s eyes narrow for a second, before a disgustingly oily gin spreads over his face, slowly.

“Well”, he muses in a dangerously sweet tone. “Beating you up is quite entertaining, I have to admit. At the very least you can provide some basic entertainment, so you’re not _completely_ useless, I suppose.”

A door falls shut somewhere down the hallway and there are steps approaching quickly. Santiago doesn’t dare take his eyes off Lorea, but Lorea turns his head with all the patience in the world, to see who’s approaching. His jaw hardens momentarily and Santiago knows that has to mean it’s Will, who’s hurrying towards them.

Lorea steps closer again, close enough to half-whisper: “Better hope I won’t get bored, then, hm?”  
Kyle sniggers and Lorea sends Santiago one last grimy smile before turning away and pushing through the main doors, Kyle close on his heels.

The gust of winter air hits Santiago in the face before Will reaches him. Glaring after Lorea and Kyle, Will looks down at Santiago worriedly. “You okay? Sorry I took so long.”

“It’s fine”, Santiago replies and shrugs, trying to get rid of the uneasy feeling left behind by Lorea. “I’m fine.”

“What did those morons want?”, Will asks frowning and glances up and down Santiago’s body, as if searching for bruises and broken bones.

“Nothing”, Santiago mumbles and only when he tastes blood does he realise, he’s been chewing the inside of his cheek. He drops his gaze to the floor and fiddles with his zipper again. “Just…talk some shit, I guess. Intimidate me. The usual.”

Will’s silence is an unhappy one this time and when Santiago looks up, Will is staring at him with a mixture of indignance and anger. He doesn’t wrap his arm around Santiago’s shoulder on the way home, like he did last time, and Santiago doesn’t know how to break the tension so he just keeps walking silently.

By the time Santiago lets them in, Will still hasn’t said a word, and his face is carefully blank as he methodically gets out of his jacket and hangs it up neatly. Santiago has only just toed off his shoes, when suddenly there are hands grabbing and pulling at him.

Before he has a chance to understand what’s happening, Will has turned him around and is pressing hungry kisses into Santiago’s mouth. With both his hands splayed on Santiago’s hips, Will walks him backwards down the hallway and Santiago can do nothing but hold on and try to keep up. By the time Will pushes him into his own room, Santiago is dizzy and has to remind himself to breathe regularly. Then, Will’s hands contract on his hips for a moment before reaching up and pulling down the zipper of the jacket Santiago is still wearing, and a high noise embarrassingly close to a keen escapes Santiago.

“The things you say sometimes”, Will murmurs gruffly into the damp air between them as he pushes the jacket off Santiago’s shoulders, only to immediately go for his hair. Santiago digs his fingers into Will’s sides in a desperate attempt to keep his balance, when Will coaxes his mouth open and the wet-hot slide of his tongue steals all of Santiago’s brain capacity. This time he manages to reciprocate, at least, and what he lacks in skill, he makes up for in effort as he pushes up on his tiptoes to get even closer.

“Makes me wanna punch something”, Will mumbles and the words take a moment to register in Santiago’s brain, but when they do, he pushes against Will’s chest lightly and breaks away. Will blinks at him, dazed, and Santiago can’t help but feel a swell of pride. He did that. He put that expression on Will’s face.

“What?”, Santiago croaks and is momentarily stunned by the unexpected roughness of his own voice.

Will’s eyes clear up a little and he lets go of Santiago’s hair, but doesn’t really back away further. He shuffles his feet as though embarrassed but when he meets Santiago’s eyes, there is nothing but unapologetic stubbornness in his eyes. “The way he treats you. It makes me want to punch something, preferably his stupid face. The way they all treat you, actually. Why can nobody see…I just wanna…”

When Will trails off, apparently at a loss for words, Santiago is reminded of something. He takes a deep, calming breath and takes a seat on his bed. Will follows him immediately and mirrors him until they’re sat opposite each other with crossed legs.

“We – we should probably talk”, Santiago explains at Will’s questioning glance. He gestures between them. “About this, uhm, us. Whatever this is.”

“Okay, yeah”, Will nods slowly. “I guess, you’re right.”

When he keeps looking at Santiago expectantly, he clears his throat awkwardly and tries to put his thoughts into words. “Well, uhm. I think, there’s the question of – I mean, I don’t know about you but I’m – I just – well, this isn’t, like, _casual_ for me, you know?”

He’s beet-red by the time he finally gets it out, but thankfully Will doesn’t laugh at him. Santiago only has to hold his breath for a second, then Will shakes his head quickly and assures him: “No, me neither.”

Santiago’s chest immediately feels a few tons lighter and he bites his lip to keep the stupid grin from showing too wide on his face. “Yeah. Ok. That’s – that’s cool then. We’re cool.”

This time, Will does grin at him and Santiago tries to glare back, but it doesn’t quite work with the dopey smile still on his face. Will shuffles closer, until their knees are touching, then he takes one of Santiago’s hands and starts idly drawing random patterns on the back of it.

“Okay, so”, Will says and they both look at their hands in their laps. “I mean, have you done this before?”

Done what? Kissing boys? A…relationship? Sex? Santiago doesn’t really need to ask for clarification, the answer is the same. “No”, he mumbles and keeps his eyes downcast. No, to all of it.

Will nods slowly, long, gentle fingers now turning Santiago’s hand around so Will can trace the lines of his palm. “I have. Well, parts of it. Not like this, though.”

Santiago feels another smile tugging at his lips. ‘Not like this’. He ducks his head a little deeper, so Will won’t see his stupidly wide smile and catches Will’s fingers in between his. “What…what haven’t you done, yet?”

When there is no answer for a few seconds, Santiago looks up and is met with Will’s direct stare. There’s a warm squeeze of his fingers that’s accompanied by a smile, so small and genuine, Santiago is almost sure Will doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

“A lot”, Will says quietly and nudges his nose against Santiago’s in a playful gesture. “Enough.”  
One hand is entangled with Santiago’s but he lifts the other one to Santiago’s chin, where he grabs hold of it and then there’s a thumb rubbing slowly over his lower lip. “We’ll just take it slow and see where it goes, yeah?”

Santiago’s answering “yeah” is toneless and when he nods, Will’s thumb accidentally dips in between his parted lips for a second. Will’s eyes darken a nuance and his nostrils flare. Santiago reaches for his collar and pulls Will down while simultaneously tilting himself upward. Their mouths crash together with slightly more force than necessary (or comfortable) and they both laugh breathlessly at the sound of their teeth clicking together. Then Will slides his hand from Santiago’s jaw to the back of his neck and pulls him in until they’re breathing each other’s air. Santiago manages to catch Will’s lower lip between his and sucks on it instinctively, which elicits a soft groan from the back of Will’s throat. Delighted, Santiago does it again and again, until his head feels dizzy and his body is too hot from it.

“Does…does, uhm”, Santiago swallows and struggles to open his eyes, while they breathe each other in. “Does Benny know?”

Will lets out a puff of air and leans his forehead heavily against Santiago’s. “No. Well – no? I guess? I haven’t told him but I wouldn’t be surprised if he figured, well, all of this” – he gestures between their chests, not unlike Santiago did earlier – “out long before we did. He’s a smart kid, that one.”

Santiago chuckles at the unmistakeable pride glistening in Will’s eyes. “Yeah, he is.”  
Then he contemplates the way their intertwined fingers look in their laps, how his bronze skin contrasting with Will’s creamier tone is weirdly satisfactory. He thinks for a moment and he can feel Will’s eyes on him, but it doesn’t make him nervous anymore. Not here, not now, not like this. “Do we tell him? Or anyone, really?”

Will hums thoughtfully. “Well…do you want to tell them? Does anyone need to know?”

Santiago frowns, thinking. He’s never done this before, he doesn’t know if people go around announcing their, ah, romantic endeavours to the world. Whenever couples have formed (and broken up) around him, everyone just sort of knew. He never before thought about how that happens.

“I don’t…there’s no one for me who really needs to know, I guess”, Santiago shrugs, forehead still pulled into a frown. “Which doesn’t mean you can’t tell anyone, of course. If you have someone, who you think you should tell…”

“Nah, not really”, Will replies and his tone is so soft, it negates the flippancy of his words. When Santiago looks up from their hands, Will meets his eyes, steady and so sure of himself, Santiago couldn’t ever question it. “If Benny knows or finds out, that’s fine, but other than that I’d rather keep you to myself for now, I guess.”

Santiago can’t help the blush spreading over his face and there’s an alarming prickling sensation behind his eyelids – Will can’t just say stuff like that, he’s so _sincere_ , how is Santiago supposed to handle that? Before he can say or do anything embarrassing, he presses close to Will again, even if it’s at a weird angle because they are sitting just that bit too far away from each other.

Apart from the wet slide of lips, the only sound in the room is their breathing, and Santiago tries to shift subtly in order to get more comfortable but Will notices, of course Will notices. He lets go of Santiago’s hand and rests it on his hip, right where the seam of his sweater is resting atop of his jeans. There is no way Will doesn’t feel the shiver running down Santiago’s spine, no way he doesn’t hear Santiago’s breath hitch. Using the superior length of his body, Will leans forward a little further so Santiago doesn’t have to bend quite so far. Then, slowly, giving Santiago time to pull back should he want to, Will slips his hand underneath the fabric. First the tips of his fingers, then the palm, until his entire hand is resting on Santiago’s bare hip, gripping at his overheated skin. He’s so hot by now, he really should be taking off his sweater. Then he remembers, he’s not wearing anything underneath and now the mere thought of stripping down to his jeans in front of Will, freezes Santiago’s brain in a place somewhere between adolescent excitement and overwhelming insecurity.

The noise Santiago makes is embarrassingly close to a whine. In an attempt to anchor himself, he digs his fingers into Will right where they’re resting: his thigh. He’s so disoriented from all the different sensations – naked skin, tugging at the base of his skull, lips, tongue, teeth – that he doesn’t recognise the familiar sound of footsteps for a few seconds.

When he finally does, he doesn’t have time to think, he just pushes Will back roughly, disconnecting their bodies and almost making Will fall over backwards from the sudden shift. His panicked heartbeat flying in his chest as he stares at Will with a sinking feeling in his stomach, because there’s no way he’s getting out of this now. It’s too late. Surprise, worry, and hurt flicker over Will’s face in the span of a second but before he can open his mouth to ask what’s going on, there’s a knock on the doorframe and Santiago’s mother leans through the open door.

“Hello”, she says and her foggy, unfocused eyes find Santiago first before they settle on Will. Will straightens his back and turns around, so he can look directly at her. “Oh. Who’s this?”

Santiago prays to every god willing to listen, that Will doesn’t notice the way her words are slightly slurred. After a second of stunned silence, Will gets up from the bed and approaches her, his hand outstretched in an offering, to Santiago’s horror. “I’m Will. Nice to meet you, Mrs Garcia.”

She stares at his hand blankly for a moment, before she erupts in snorting giggles and supports herself against the doorknob clumsily with one hand, so she can take Will’s with the other. “Nice t’meet you, too. Will. Been awhile since Santi’d friends over.”

This is bad. This is so, so very bad, Santiago knows, and even with his innards slowly turning to ice, he gets up, too. “We’re tutoring each other. I told you about him.”

She holds onto Will’s hand for way too long and the closer Santiago gets, the more obvious it gets that she’s high: her hair is a mess, her face is dry and splotchy, she has her blouse buttoned up wrong, and her expression is completely blank except for the nervous twitch of a random too-wide smile and her slow, hooded eyes. Santiago has stopped paying attention to her pattern a long time ago, he doesn’t know if it’s been a long time since she was this high or if it’s her new normal. All he knows, is that he shouldn’t have brought Will here, it was stupid not to check before inviting him over, and now he’s paying the price for it.

Will is an unnervingly perceptive person anyway, there is absolutely no way in hell he hasn’t noticed any of this. Very calmly he takes his hand back and his face doesn’t show anything, when she looses her balance again, and grips the doorframe for support. “Whoops. Little woozy, eh?”

“Will was just leaving, actually”, Santiago announces and pushes his way past her, his fingers circled tight around Will’s wrist to tug him with. Will follows without complaint and his silence is deafening. After a few seconds, his mother’s unsteady steps follow after them.

“Tu-toring session already over?”, she asks, stumbling over the longer word, and Santiago can hear the confusion and suspicion in her voice without having to turn around and look at her. Will is done putting his shoes back on, so Santiago shoves his jacket at him.

“Yeah”, he agrees, short and suddenly very exhausted.

“Will you come back t’visit us?”, she insists, question now directed at Will himself.

“No”, Santiago grits out between clenched teeth. Will, in the middle of doing up his jacket, stares at Santiago, eyes slightly narrowed and he can practically see the gears turning in that way too smart head.

“Bye, Will”, Santiago’s mother says softly, slightly amused again, as though Santiago said something funny.

Will catches Santiago’s forearm, when he tries to push Will towards the door, and Santiago can’t, he can’t cope with this right now. On the verge of tears, he meets Will’s eyes pleadingly, begging him to not drag this out any longer than it’s already been. Will clenches his jaw, unmoving for a heartbeat.

“Walk me home?”, he asks finally, his voice low and steady and just meant for Santiago.

He hesitates, but only for a second. This was inevitable, he supposes. He’d been getting reckless with having Will over and spending time with him, greedy. Of course Will has questions, everyone would, but unlike mostly everybody else Will also has the right to an explanation. Santiago owes him that, for putting him in this situation alone, but also because he’s _Will_ and there’s this little, tiny sliver of hope that Santiago doesn’t want to acknowledge, yet. Maybe…just maybe, Will won’t push him away for being the miserable loser that he is.

‘Not like this’ from their earlier conversation echoes through his mind and it seems ages ago instead of a mere half an hour or so, but it still makes Santiago lift his chin and nod at Will. “Yeah, okay. I’ll walk you home.”

His mother is muttering something to herself, back turned and making her way to the couch, when Santiago turns around and closes the door behind them. Will doesn’t speak, he just buries his hands in his pockets and they start walking. Once they’re outside the building, Santiago realises he forgot to put his jacket back on, because it’s still lying on his bedroom floor where Will dropped it, but he won’t turn back now. It’s still light outside and he’s wearing a sweater at least, so he tucks his fists under his armpits and braves the sharp wind.

Will doesn’t say anything, doesn’t prompt Santiago to explain, and just walks in silence next to him; a quiet, steady presence, waiting patiently for Santiago to get his thoughts in order and put them into words, he’s ready to speak out loud.

“You know all that weird stuff, you heard about me at school?”, Santiago finally says after almost half the way. He keeps his eyes on his shoes, the concrete underneath, the houses they’re walking by – most have put up some sort of Christmas decorations by now – he looks at really anything, that isn’t Will. “All the ‘weird shit’ you told me not to drag Benny into, at the beginning of the year? Well, there’s some things you should know about my family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Santiago explains his family and there are consequences.


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santiago explains his family and there are consequences.

Santiago doesn’t look at Will while he talks. He stares off into space, so far zoomed out that he doesn’t realise they’ve stopped walking and are standing in front of the Miller’s house, at first. He just talks and talks until he’s numb and he doubts it’s from the cold alone.

“So, I live with my mom, yeah? I haven’t seen my father in two years, he doesn’t visit often since they separated”, Santiago says and his throat feels raw already, although he only just started. “I don’t think they ever, uhm, fit together particularly well, to be honest. He left when I was like three or something, down south and then further to Florida where he works, apparently – I don’ know what he’s doing, really. Mom says he sends money sometimes.” Not that Santiago ever saw any evidence to confirm or deny that statement.  
Will listens quietly and although he doesn’t even look at Santiago, he knows Will is taking in every word. Santiago takes a breath. So far for the easy part.

“My mom, uhm, well, I told you she’s a nurse. That’s…it wasn’t a lie, she used to be a nurse when I was younger but she, uh, she kinda started stealing drugs from the hospital she used to work at. I don’t know when it started, maybe she always did it and only got caught years later. I was six when she lost her job at the hospital.”

There is white fluff dancing in the air around them now and it takes Santiago a moment to realise it’s started snowing. Strangely, he doesn’t feel very cold right now. He doesn’t feel much of anything, he realises. He pulls one hand from his armpit and opens his palm to try and catch a snowflake in it. In a kind of detached wonder he watches it twirl and settle and immediately melt into absolute nothingness when it comes in contact with his skin.

“My dad was supposed to take care of me while she was…away.” Santiago realised years later, she had to go to jail and that was why he couldn’t stay with her. She should have gotten sober in there, theoretically, but…well, he doesn’t remember her being sober for more than a few days at a time even after she got out. Her parents had wanted her to go to rehab afterwards, even paid for it, apparently, but whether she ever went there or just disappeared for a few months…years…Santiago couldn’t say. He'd never dared to ask.

“I don’t exactly know what happened, but I ended up staying at my grandparents’. They looked after me, made sure I did good in school and all that. My abuelita, she…she had a bad liver and when she died, my abuelito had to look after me all on his own.”

In recent years Santiago had started wondering, if his mother’s addictive behaviour was maybe the result of a genetic disposition, when thinking back on his abuelita’s drinking. She had seemed fine to Santiago, never slurring her words like her daughter does. His abuelita just couldn’t sleep or get up without a shot of whiskey. It hadn’t felt anything like Santiago’s mother’s intoxicated stumbling, shouting, hallucinating. Still doesn’t. His mother’s behaviour makes it hard to even look at her, her mere presence resulting in a tight knot where Santiago’s lungs are supposed to be; his abuelita was sick, yeah, but somehow she was…warm. He remembers her laughing and reading to him with her husky voice and wrinkled face, but her eyes were always sparkling with life – never dull and glazed over, feverish like his mother’s.

“I was thirteen when my abuelito died and he…he was the best person I’ve ever known. We used to talk a lot and he was so patient and always knew the right things to say.”

To Santiago’s surprise, the sky is starting to darken. Has he been talking for this long? The snow is melting on the concrete but if it keeps snowing like this throughout the night, the city will be white in the morning, Santiago muses looking around.  
Will watches him openly now and even without looking at his face, Santiago knows Will is pulling that blank face again; probably trying to be non-judgemental. To his credit, Will hasn’t fidgeted once, he isn’t even moving from one foot to the other, no sign of how cold he must be by now. Tired of this stupid, pointless story. Probably regretting to have asked Santiago to walk him home by now. Why does this take so long? But Santiago honestly doesn’t know how to shorten it, he’s already cutting his own irrelevant thoughts out, so Will doesn’t have to listen to pathetic whining on top of it all.

“Sometimes other people would visit us”, Santiago goes on, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. “I have an older cousin, who used to come around once a week to look after me while my abuelito was out, but one day he just disappeared. Later, I learned he used to spend his days jumping people with knives and guns and got caught eventually. I think he’s out of jail by now, but I haven’t seen him since I was eleven or so. My other cousin, his sister, wasn’t around much, either. She moved to Indiana after her brother got locked up. I heard she used to steal, too, only more pickpocket-y instead of full-on holding people at gun point. My abuelito said they were lies, though, so…” Santiago shrugs and buries his hands in his pockets in a fruitless attempt to regain some resemblance of feeling anywhere in his body.

“When my abuelito died, my mom had to take me back”, he continues and watches the grey sky turn darker and darker against the silhouette of the Miller’s roof. There’s light inside and he imagines Benny draped in some ridiculous pose across the sofa, flicking idly through the channels and waiting for his family to come home and entertain him. The thought makes warmth flicker in some forgotten place inside Santiago, and the impulse to smile has never hurt like this.

“I moved in with her again and had to change schools. That’s when…” _the bullying really started_ “…when I met Tom.” Will tenses up and even though it’s not terribly obvious, Santiago notices. He doesn’t really understand the weird tension between the two of them, but maybe hearing this will help Will relax a little around Tom in the future. If there is any ‘future’ after today, that is.

Smiling ruefully to himself, Santiago goes on: “He was my friend. Despite the…well, there were rumours about me. Still are, of course. Everyday a new one, but the thing is, in the beginning they were true, you know? ‘Santiago’s family are all criminals’, ‘his mother is _crazy_ , she can’t stand being his mom sober so she’s always high as a kite’, ‘his granny drank herself to death’. All that. And they aren’t wrong, yeah, so what can I really say?”

Santiago feels Will is about to reply to that rhetoric question, but if he’s interrupted now, he won’t get the rest of it out, so he barrels on: “Then the druggy-kids found out that their dealer was my uncle.”  
That stops Will in his tracks and now the smile that forces its way onto Santiago’s face is bitter. ‘My uncle sells drugs to minors’. A classic.

“He’s always in and out of jail, and I knew he was selling, my cousins had talked about it plenty, but it’s different when he’s selling to people who know me”, Santiago tries to explain and shrugs, eyes downcast. “It’s…it wasn’t good. The rumours got worse and worse, about me, about my family, anyone close to me. Apart from Tom, nobody stayed with me.”

He feels suddenly hyper-aware of Will’s breathing, slow and calm as if he’s consciously controlling his breathing-pattern. Santiago listens and tries to match his own for a few moments, mildly surprised to feel his heart beating a million miles per hour. How can he feel this far removed from his own body, that he doesn’t even notice his own heart fluttering like a panicked bird against his ribcage?

“I don’t know which ‘weird shit’ it is that you’ve heard about me exactly, but I’m guessing it’s something about me robbing both people and people’s places, being addicted to drugs, being schizophrenic and maybe you also heard I’m selling sex on the side?” He doesn’t even sound bitter or hurt, his tone is slightly amused, Santiago realises. He can’t help but feel a little proud at that.  
He knows those wounds have long stopped hurting and by now they’re reduced to numb scar-tissue that he managed to push down into the deepest, darkest corner of himself, so indifference really should be the only emotion attached to it anymore. That repulsive feeling of gut-deep shame never really went away, though. “If I did all that I’d firstly have to have inhuman time-management skills, because that’s _a lot_ for one person to do during the day; and secondly, I would be rich, wouldn’t I?”

This time, Will doesn’t seem keen on answering the rhetoric question, either because he realised interrupting isn’t a good idea or because he doesn’t want to. Santiago doesn’t know and neither does he want to think about it too hard.

“So, yeah, that’s what you need to know: most of the ‘weird shit’ you heard about me is true”, Santiago chuckles, but it feels hollow and cold, as though the winter-air finally managed to creep inside of him and is now coiling in his lungs like a sort of icy parasite. “Basically, I’m only related to addicts, dealers, and people who jump others with weapons. Us Garcias really are a charming bunch, no?”, 

Instead of answering Santiago’s third rhetoric (but not really) question, Will says after a minute of deafening silence: “You said, your mom works?” It’s not phrased as a question, but it definitely is meant as one.

Santiago kicks at the concrete underneath his shoes, that’s gotten quite wet from the melting snow by now. “She does, yeah. She’s a cleaner at a motel on the outskirts of town.” He hesitates for a moment, but really, what has he got to lose at this point? Will _saw_ her. “She’s taking a lot of pills for her depression, but I’m pretty sure most of the pills I see her take aren’t officially recommended treatments.”

He’d tried to help her, in the beginning, tried to monitor whether she was taking her medication or something else. He’d thought if he’d only just help her maintain even a fleeting sense of sobriety, to regain any sort of control over her life, all could be good. After her third overdose, he’d finally stopped trying. He doesn’t panic anymore when he finds her passed out on the carpet in the living room, because now he knows how to check her pulse and look for empty containers to gauge how life-threatening the situation is this time.  
Since Santiago turned eighteen a few months ago, he’s not afraid to be taken into foster care or having to live with his father anymore. At this point, he’s really just waiting to finish school, get any job and finally move out. “I’m not sure she knows, I notice her smoking up in the living room or passing out on the couch every other day – don’t think she cares, actually.”

Will doesn’t say anything for a long time and now Santiago is starting to feel the cold. Maybe he really should leave, get out of here.

“Anyway, that’s me”, he says as lightly as possible and smiles as carefree as he can manage, when he finally meets Will’s eyes. “Now you know all the ‘weird shit’ about me isn’t as much bullshit as you probably hoped for. Sorry. Everything around me is a little fucked up – or maybe it’s a lot, actually.” Santiago’s laugh sounds so horribly hollow, he stops immediately. Chewing on the inside of his cheek again, he tastes blood when he lowers his eyes to somewhere around Will’s jaw as he mumbles: “So, yeah, that’s why you can’t come over anymore.”

Will watches him quietly, his eyes narrowed and his face isn’t blank anymore, not entirely. There’s a little crease in between his eyebrows now, like the beginning of a frown that he doesn’t really want to commit to. Santiago can’t believe he started out this afternoon, being allowed to kiss that beautiful soft mouth and now he’s here, probably speaking the last words he’ll ever say to Will.

“I, uh, gotta go now”, he decides when it gets clear, Will isn’t replying anytime soon. He should’ve known to squash that speck of hope the moment it bloomed. Why would Will ever want to deal with Santiago’s weird shit? Because he thinks, Santiago is pretty enough to be kissed? Because his little brother accidentally kind of imprinted on Santiago? Because he doesn’t call Santiago names like most everyone else does? People want to adopt cute and pretty puppies, not the ones that are infested with sicknesses, damaged characters, and ugly scars, that will never go away. And Santiago should’ve remembered that, he _really_ should’ve remembered that.

Suddenly Santiago feels too sensitive to be around anyone, let alone Will. He’s rubbed raw to his soul, like all his nerve-endings are laid open and vulnerable, receptive to the tiniest stimulation. He wraps his arms around himself, as though that might help elevate the vague sense of breaking apart any moment now. Throat scratchy, he turns into the cold wind and away from Will, but before he’s taken more than one step, there’s a hand on his wrist. Santiago follows the attached arm upwards until he makes it to Will’s face, which is still pulled into that unhappy frown. While Santiago normally would want nothing more than to bury himself in Will and shut out all the world, right now even the sensation of his slender, already too familiar fingers wrapped around Santiago’s clothed wrist, is too much.

“Here”, Will says and Santiago doesn’t know what he’s talking about for a moment, too focused on not falling apart at the minimal contact. Then Will lets go of him and shrugs his jacket off his shoulders to offer it to Santiago. Confused, Santiago looks between the jacket and Will’s face. Will lifts the jacket a little higher, prompting. “C’mon. You’re gonna catch death in this weather.”

Tentatively, Santiago takes the jacket out of Will’s hand, making sure not to touch him in any way. It’s warm when he pushes his arms through the sleeves, and Will’s scent immediately fills his nose, blocking out everything else. Before he can grab for the zipper, Will’s hands are already there and he zips Santiago up silently. He doesn’t look at Santiago while he does it, just watches his own hands and makes sure not to touch Santiago’s throat and chin where he closes up the jacket at his neck. Santiago notices and he’s torn between thankfulness, because his overloaded senses couldn’t handle Will right now, and the cold realisation that maybe Will doesn’t want to touch him anymore.

Only when he’s done does Will meet Santiago’s eyes again. “Talk tomorrow, yeah?”  
Santiago’s mouth is too dry to speak, so he just nods and watches Will turn around and vanish through the door.

 

That night, Santiago doesn’t really sleep much and he’s so late the next day, that he completely forgets to bring Will his jacket to school. Will wears a different one, anyway, and just shrugs when Santiago quietly apologises for forgetting. To Santiago’s initial relief, Will doesn’t ignore him, although that still results in Santiago nervously waiting for Will to start talking about what happened yesterday. Twice throughout the day, Will clears his throat and says “Pope…” but the first time, Santiago panics and gets up to get another yoghurt, and the second time, Will is interrupted by Frankie clapping him on the back, shouting: “What’s up, princess?”.  
Santiago doesn’t know for sure Will would’ve started talking about yesterday, of course, but he’s relieved anyway.

By the end of the day however, Santiago knows why there’s this bitter taste at the back of his throat: apart from a few superficial sentences, Will didn’t really talk to Santiago all day. He still spent his lunch with Santiago and Benny and he still sat close to Santiago, but he didn’t really _touch_ Santiago – no ruffling of hair, no fleeting touches of hands, and no pressing together of their shoulders or legs. And Santiago wants to just do it himself, press closer to Will and spike that honey-coloured hair up even more, he does, but…well, he’s not sure if he’s allowed to, not anymore, and now he questions if he ever really was.

On Wednesday, Santiago ‘forgets’ to bring Will’s jacket again, but Will doesn’t even ask about it. He just lifts the corners of his mouth when he sees Santiago in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, which now seem permanently deep in thought. He answers when Santiago asks him questions and laughs at Benny’s jokes but that’s it. He doesn’t…he doesn’t really talk to Santiago, still doesn’t even touch him, and he doesn’t ask to meet up again, Santiago realises with a sinking stomach. He really fucked this one up, didn’t he? Why does his life have to be such a disgusting mess? No sane person would voluntarily deal with that, he can’t really blame Will for distancing himself.

Against his better judgement, on Thursday Santiago tries to steer the stilted conversations with Will to tutoring. He just hopes, Will won’t try and talk about his family but he needn’t have worried. Will doesn’t comment on Monday, he doesn’t suggest coming over again and he most certainly doesn’t ask Santiago to come over to the Millers’, either. By the end of the day, Santiago feels utterly defeated and tired, and when his eyes start itching and burning from holding back tears all day, he locks himself in the bathroom after last period and waits until everyone has definitely left the school.

Overnight that feeling of defeat somehow turns into scorching anger and in a childish fit of defiance, Santiago decides to wear Will’s jacket to school. At first, it’s very satisfying to have Will’s eyes follow him all day. After three days of feeling Will drift further and further away, having his full attention – even if it might be less of the ravishing-nature and more of the you-little-fucker variety, Santiago has been consciously avoiding to meet Will’s eyes so he can’t really tell – results in a strange sort of rush. By the time lunchbreak rolls around, though, that indignant defiance and childish satisfaction at finally getting Will’s full attention, has shifted into uncomfortable unrest.

In a split-second decision, Santiago doesn’t follow the stream of students to the cafeteria when the bell rings, and instead makes his way to the nearest bathroom as quickly and swiftly as possible.

He listens but doesn’t hear approaching footsteps, which means he successfully avoided Will following him. There is nobody else in the bathroom, everyone rushing to the cafeteria to get food, of course. Santiago feels his stomach pleading with him to get some lunch, too, but the memory of Will’s burning eyes is enough to stay put. Taking a few calming breaths he approaches the mirrors hung above the line of sinks along the side of the tiled room.

Santiago’s hair has grown out by now, his curls back to an unruly mess again, although they’re still not as long as they were before Will cut them. The skin around his eyes seems grey and dark, which results in his eyes seeming even wider, even darker than they are naturally. His lips are slightly chapped, and Santiago can actually see where he’s been gnawing at his lower lip these past few days. He’s rubbing his forefinger over the uneven skin, when the door behind him swings open to reveal Will.

Taken completely by surprise, Santiago barely has time to turn around before Will has him cornered against the sinks, cold porcelain pressing into the small of his back.

“Are you done avoiding me, now?”, Will asks and his voice is deep and rough and thoroughly distracting when combined with his proximity and the fact that Will is now boxing Santiago in between his arms, where he’s resting his weight on the sinks left and right of Santiago’s hips.

“I…uhm”, Santiago stammers, momentarily dumbfounded, and licks his lips nervously. It doesn’t help their chapped state. “I wasn’t? Avoiding you, I mean?”

“Liar”, Will replies evenly and it’s not even an accusation, it’s just a statement. He leans forward until their noses are pressed together and holds Santiago’s eyes. Santiago thought he knew how intense Will could get by now, but he’s never been stared at this… _forcefully_. There’s no escaping those grey-blue orbs now. “You don’t want to talk about what happened, I get that. We don’t have to talk about your mom or your family or anything. Whatever you want, Pope, it’s absolutely fine.”  
Santiago tenses up at the mention of his mother and holds his breath, waiting for what else Will has to say.

“But you don’t get to act like I’ve been…shunning you, or whatever it is that you got into your stubborn skull”, Will continues, still holding Santiago’s wide eyed gaze and refusing to let him lower his eyes guiltily. When did Will learn how to read Santiago’s mind? “Just let me say this once and I promise I won't say it again, if you don't want me to: I’m glad you told me. Thank you. For trusting me with that. I promise, I’ll try and never break that trust, yeah?”

That directness would have destroyed Santiago on Monday but even now, days later, it still shatters something inside of Santiago. He swallows and finally manages to rip his eyes away from Will, although when he lowers them there still is nothing to look at besides Will, so much _Will_ is in his space right now. “You didn’t…I thought maybe you didn’t want to, uhm, t-tutor anymore?”

Santiago hates how uncertain he sounds, how his voice quivers slightly, but he can’t help it, not when Will is being this open. It completely throws him off; this much openness, this level of naked honesty, trust, making himself deliberately vulnerable in front of Santiago, thanking him…he’s not sure how to handle it.

“I was giving you space, you idiot!”, Will exclaims and his hands rise up to grip Santiago’s shoulders and shake him a little. When Santiago looks back up, there’s nothing but exasperated amusement and unbearable fondness in Will’s eyes. No trace of a cruel joke or an outright lie even. “But you can’t just wear my stuff around for everybody to see, even with that seriously dark scowl you had going on, and expect me not to react to that.”

“What?”, Santiago asks weakly, his brain struggling to keep up with the changing moods all day, and now completely lost when listening to Will’s words. 

“You know, your face said ‘dangerous and broody, do not approach’ but you look really cute in my jacket”, Will shrugs, as if that’s any sort of explanation. His hands let go of Santiago’s shoulders and are now trailing inward until they reach the open collar, where Will grips the lapels. “And apparently I’m a moron, who thinks that combination is mind-meltingly hot.”

“You can have it back, of c-uh…“

Will doesn’t kiss him then, he just rubs his nose alongside Santiago’s, hot breath fanning over Santiago’s parted lips, and his thumbs have found the sensitive skin on his throat, rubbing up and down slowly. It takes Santiago another second to collect his thoughts, then he grips Will by the back of his jacket and pulls him in until they’re touching from knees to breastbone. He can feel Will’s breath quickening a fraction and that’s all the confirmation he needs.

This time it’s more biting and sucking than it really is kissing. Santiago doesn’t hold back and suddenly all the complicated feelings he was holding inside – for Will, for this thing between them, for the incident on Monday, for the entire situation – come pouring out and into this kiss. And Will shivers with it, his breath coming in pants now, and he’s pushing and pulling at Santiago, unable to decide what he really wants to do with him. Will’s hands are pulling him in, but his entire body is pushing, pushing close, until Santiago doesn’t feel the way the sink digs into his back from the hot, hard pressure of Will’s hips against his.

Automatically, Santiago broadens his stance and Will’s leg just naturally slots in between the vee of Santiago’s spread thighs. Santiago grapples for purchase and fists his hands in the fabric by Will’s hips, instinctively trying to keep the pressure up, even as his mouth falls open and a breathy moan echoes through the tiled room. Will slows down and when Santiago opens his eyes, Will is staring right back at him.

His face is flushed pink and his hair is damp where it’s plastered to his forehead. Those grey-blue eyes have never seemed so feverish, and his lips are swollen from Santiago biting and sucking at them. Santiago guesses, he doesn’t fare much better, and is glad he’s got his back turned to the mirrors.

“Yeah?”, Will asks, voice reduced to a hoarse murmur, and then he rolls his hips slowly and deliberately against Santiago’s. There’s an unmistakeable shape pressed into Santiago’s hip, hot and heavy, and Santiago tightens his grip on Will’s hips instinctively.

He holds Will’s eyes and tugs at his hips, while simultaneously pushing his own forward, and the resulting friction is almost too good. It’s all Santiago can do to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head. Instead, he nods with more difficulty than he would care to admit and licks his lips in a flutter of nerves.

Then Will’s mouth his sliding against his again, and they’re both panting and hard and it’s kind of embarrassing but also kind of hot as they rut against each other, increasingly desperate for more, just _more_.

This isn’t how this is supposed to happen, Santiago thinks dazedly, the delicious insistent pressure on his cock sending sparks of electricity down his spine. Anyone could come in right now, the door doesn’t lock after all, and they’re at school, for fuck sake. Still, Santiago finds he cares very little when Will’s breath hitches in the back of his throat and a low keening sound echoes quietly through the room.

When the pressure reaches its peak, Santiago honest to God whites out for a second and digs his fingernails way too hard into Will’s sides. When he blinks his eyes open again, he’s just in time to witness Will’s entire body stiffening, mouth hanging open and breath caught in his throat, before he doubles over and onto Santiago.

It takes almost a full minute for their breaths to normalise and before Santiago can start feeling awkward again, he presses a kiss to the sweaty hair behind Will’s ear. Will snuffles a laugh into Santiago’s shoulder, where he’s buried his face, and somehow his hands have found their way underneath Santiago’s jacket and shirt, because his thumbs are sweeping over Santiago’s naked skin.

“This was so stupid”, Will says as he stands back up straight, his hands never leaving Santiago’s flanks. Will’s eyes are soft and twinkling with amusement, no sign of regret despite his words, and his face is heated and bright with happiness.

“My boxers are a mess”, Santiago mumbles and pulls a face at the disgusting feeling of sticky fabric on his skin.

“Mhm, you’re welcome”, Will smirks and brushes his teeth teasingly over the tip of Santiago’s nose in the most self-accomplished smile Santiago has ever seen.

“Dick”, Santiago retorts and presses close for another second, closing his eyes and just breathing Will in.

They decide to skip the rest of the day, so they can get out of their sticky boxer shorts as quickly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: It's Christmas and Mrs Miller finally manages to make Santiago stay for food.


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas and Mrs Miller finally manages to make Santiago stay for food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry! So much rl got in the way, moving countries and much more studying than I anticipated, I'm really sorry I left you guys hanging for so long :(( I hope there's still some people left who want to read this, even though this is more of a filler chapter.  
> At least it's long and fluffy I guess? I hope you like it!

Christmas is…not Santiago’s favourite time of the year. All the lights and decorations and festiveness are not just a reminder of his non-existent family life, but the estrangement is even more apparent put in contrast with all the cosiness and love being spread around this particular holiday. It’s not just what he’s lost in his relationship with his mother, it’s what’s never really been there in the first place. Care and support only ever came from his grandparents, all his mother is able to conjure is a weak semblance of care if (and when) she really tries.

So, Santiago actually kind of likes how she’s mostly too high to notice it’s Christmas Eve. She noticed last year, which was the most awkward and sad affair Santiago has ever been part of, but this year she doesn’t and he’s glad. Still, Santiago bought her a blanket he found in a thrift shop a few weeks back, and he drapes it over her bed while she snores on the couch. She won’t notice for a few days and when she eventually does, she’ll probably just assume it’s always been there and she just didn’t notice. But it still feels nice to do _something_ for the one family member around this particular evening.

Will is spending the day with his family, of course, and Santiago isn’t jealous, he really isn’t. He likes how the three of them hold together like a little ship in a hurricane of indifference and cruelty. That doesn’t stop him from wishing Will was here, though.

Since that lunchbreak at school, Santiago has been at the Millers twice for tutoring and while they’ve been making out too – because of course they have – they actually did stick to mostly tutoring. Santiago’s algebra is getting better and Will seems to at least enjoy Spanish more and more, even though it’s only when Santiago speaks the language that Will’s eyes really light up.

Ever since the, ah, incident in the bathrooms it seems as though most of the tension has drained from between them. It’s like they know now where they’ll end up, eventually, and that’s why they’re in no hurry to get there. It’ll happen when it’ll happen and they’re okay with that. In the meantime, Santiago can’t get over how silky-soft Will’s skin feels when it’s pressed against his own, and there’s still a tremor in his lower stomach whenever he thinks about it.

Additionally, Will has started to say…things. When they’re alone, he’ll pull Santiago in and softly press words like “beautiful” and “fuck” and “want you” into Santiago’s mouth, and every time Santiago can’t look at him and just pushes his burning face against Will’s unfairly cool cheeks. He can’t say he doesn’t like it, though.

It’s shortly after eleven, when Santiago can’t bear to look at his sleeping mother on the couch anymore. Her gentle snoring seems too loud on his eardrums, like a literal drill ripping through his brain and echoing louder and louder in his skull. The empty wine bottle has left shimmering rings of dark red on the table where she set it down about two hours ago.

Santiago puts on his jacket and warmest shoes before he leaves. He walks the three flights of stairs down slowly, murmuring voices, laughter, sometimes a Christmas carol filtering through the doors he passes by. It’s dark when he steps outside and sits down on the doorstep, with thick but few snowflakes dancing in front of complete blackness. The layer of snow that’s been there for a week now, swallows most noises and Santiago breathes the sharp, crystal clear air in deeply. The only thing he can hear now is the faint rushing of the highway in the distance.

The street lantern in front of the building is bright, but because the lightbulb at the entrance door burst a few weeks prior, Santiago can settle in the semi-darkness on the doorstep. He just wants to listen to the silence and not think about Christmas for a moment, maybe picture Will’s face and wonder if they’ll see each other before New Year’s. They haven’t talked about it, haven’t talked a lot as a whole, lately. Everything just seemed to fit and work out on its own, so Santiago didn’t think to plan ahead. He regrets it now that he’s left wondering what Will might think of it.

The creaking noise of fluffed up snow being crushed underneath soles, announces the presence of someone approaching. Santiago is prepared to ignore them in the hopes they don’t enter his building and won’t see him sitting in the shadows, when a familiar voice speaks up: “Oh. Well, I guess I needn’t have worried then.”

Santiago looks down from where he’s tilted his face up to search for stars that aren’t there and finds Will standing only a few feet away. He’s wearing a grey, woollen hat and the jacket Santiago finally gave back to him. His nose and cheeks are slightly reddened from the cold and he’s holding a small package in his hands.

“Hi there”, Santiago says and smiles. “Aren’t you celebrating with your family?”

Will tips his head and comes closer, a soft smile stretching his lips. “I was. They’re asleep now, though.”

Santiago nods in understanding and looks at the package in Will’s hands. It’s been wrapped with great care. “And you?”

“Couldn’t sleep”, Will says and watches Santiago thoughtfully for a moment. “Wanted to see you.”

“Well, now you’ve seen me”, Santiago replies, heart skipping a beat. He pats the space to his right on the doorstep and Will sits down without hesitation. That’s when the wrapped package finds its way onto Santiago’s lap. “What’s this?”

“Your present”, Will shrugs with a lopsided smile.

Santiago touches the present – it gives immediately, containing some kind of soft material. He hesitates. “I didn’t buy you anything.”

“Yeah, you did”, Will shakes his head. “For my birthday, remember?”

“I’m pretty sure, that’s not how it works”, Santiago replies but starts opening the present carefully, anyway. When he unravels the long piece of fabric, it turns out to be a scarf, extremely soft and obviously brand new. “Will…”

“I know you’re always cold”, Will explains with a shrug, but he has his head ducked and Santiago is almost sure he’s is blushing right now. It’s hard to tell in the dim light. “So I thought…to keep you warm.”

“You shouldn’t have”, Santiago insists, even though his fingers don’t want to let go of the scarf, already warming up under it.

Instead of answering, Will takes it out of Santiago’s hands and wraps it around his neck, Will’s jaw set stubbornly. “There. Now you’ve worn it and it’s used and you can’t give it back.”

“Will…”, Santiago says again and touches the dark fabric by his chin carefully, amazed at the softness of it.

“See? I knew you’d look cute in it”, Will cuts in and when Santiago looks up, the flush is gone and replaced by a smirk. “This was an entirely self-serving purchase.”

Santiago huffs out an embarrassed laugh and shakes his head. This is the second time Will has called him 'cute'. “You’re ridiculous.”

“ _You’re_ ridiculous”, Will retorts and pulls Santiago in by the scarf around his neck. Santiago goes willingly, pretty much melting at the feeling of soft lips covering his own, soft fabric around his neck, soft smile spreading over his mouth. Will’s cheeks are cold against Santiago’s warmer ones, and the tip of his nose presses icily alongside Santiago’s. Will never tasted sweeter.

“Come home with me?”, Will breathes into the damp, warm air between them.

His eyes are open and honest and questioning and Santiago thinks about his mother for a moment, draped over the couch upstairs. She’ll wake up in a few hours, smoke one or three cigarettes and go to bed; she won’t notice the new blanket on the bed and she won’t check on Santiago, won’t notice he’s not in his bed. And even if she did, she’d probably think nothing of it, anyway.

And Will is right here, right in front of Santiago, smiling and asking and so alive and just right _there_ , in this moment with Santiago. So he says: “Yes.”  
They walk with entangled fingers and in complete silence. There’s nothing to be said, just warmth thrumming under their skin, and the occasional glances and shy smiles.

The advantage of the Millers’ one-story-house is that all the windows are on ground level. Will quietly unlocks the front door and disappears into the dark house, while Santiago sneaks around the house to the window to Will’s room. It takes Will long enough to open the window for Santiago to start freezing again, despite the new scarf.

“I bumped into Benny in the hallway. I’m sorry”, Will explains whispering and stands back to let Santiago climb through the window and onto his desk. Santiago manages to not shove any papers, pens or the lamp off the desk, even though his jacket’s zipper makes a quiet clinking sound where it comes in contact with the surface. The door to the hallway is firmly shut, so it’s probably not noisy enough to alert Benny or Mrs Miller.

Will closes the window behind Santiago and then they’re standing close in the darkness of his room, just like the first time Will kissed Santiago.

“Hang on”, Will murmurs and turns around to his dresser, pulling it open and searching through it. He’s already gotten rid of his coat and shoes, and so Santiago shrugs off his jacket, too, and drapes it over the back of Will’s chair.

He’s tying off his shoes, when Will asks: “D’you want bottoms, as well?”  
When Santiago looks up, Will has a folded t-shirt in one hand, the other reaching for something in his dresser, eyebrows lifted questioningly. “Taking a hot shower would probably be even better to get rid of the cold, but that’ll definitely wake my mom, I’m sorry.”

“No, just the shirt’s fine”, Santiago replies and Will nods, shutting the drawer. When Santiago is finally rid of his shoes and standing up again, Will hands him the t-shirt and unceremoniously turns around to change.

Santiago watches the lines of Will’s pale back move for a moment, when he pulls his sweater and shirt over his head in one motion, revealing endless spans of bare skin. Mouth drying up, he reaches out with the hand that isn’t holding the shirt Will just gave him and trails his fingers up the dip of his spine. Will pauses, arms already in his pyjama shirt, and lets Santiago step closer. This close, Santiago can watch how Will’s back breaks out in goosebumps and after a moment he locks his mouth over that knob high on Will’s spine, right at his nape.

“Pope”, Will breathes and Santiago gives a light suck to taste creamy, slightly salty skin. Then he retreats and pulls off his own shirt. Will stays frozen in place until Santiago has put on Will’s t-shirt. After a few seconds, Will also pulls his own pyjama shirt fully over his head. The hair on the back of his neck is ruffled deliciously and Santiago wants to set his teeth into the chords of lean muscle he can see moving there. Instead, Santiago steps out of his jeans and pulls off his socks, dropping both items onto Will’s chair, where he’s put his jacket.

Will climbs into his bed and under the duvet, only wearing a shirt and boxers, just like Santiago. He scoots backwards until his back hits the wall and settles there, lifting up the corner of the duvet in a clear invitation. Santiago follows after him slowly and slips between duvet and mattress, turning sideways so they’re facing each other.

They lie like this for a few long heartbeats, just looking, knees bumping together lightly and warming up the duvet quickly between the two of them. Then Will lifts his hand and traces the lines of Santiago’s face lightly, eyes glistening wide open in the dark. Santiago feels fine tremors running down his spine as Will’s fingertips trace his cheekbones, that knob on the bridge of his nose, rubbing over the curve of his jaw and settling by his eye-socket, where the skin is particularly thin and his lashes catch on Will’s fingertip every time he blinks.

“Sometimes I can’t believe how pretty you are”, Will breathes quietly, and Santiago wants to laugh. He wants to ask: ‘pretty? Have you seen your face?’, wants to tell Will how beautiful he is, inside and out, but the words die on his tongue and he can’t do anything but lower his eyes and feel his face heating up against Will’s fingers. That’s when Will chuckles lowly. “Aw, look at you, you’re actually blushing!”

“Hey!”, Santiago splutters and looks back up defiantly. “Don’t laugh at me. My face has always been red around you, asshole.”

“Well, it doesn’t really show, to be honest”, Will replies easily and he’s stopped chuckling, but there’s still this cheeky grin plastered across his face. “I only know you’re blushing because you get that look in your eyes – yeah, that one! Sort of shy and embarrassed but also a little proud.”

“Well, I–”, Santiago starts defensively, but then doesn’t know where to go with it. “What do you expect? It’s embarrassing.” _Nobody calls me the things you call me._

“You like it, admit it”, Will teases and laughs quietly when Santiago blushes even darker. He rubs his thumb over the curve of Santiago’s brow-bone. “You like it when I tell you how pretty you are.”

“Shut up”, Santiago mumbles and tries to scowl, but it’s hard when Will is smiling at him like this, wide and happy and relaxed, teeth shimmering in the dark.

Then the mood tips, when Will scoots a little closer, hand spreading flat on the side of Santiago’s face and whispering: “Make me.”

Santiago bites his lip, contemplating for a second, before he reaches out underneath the duvet and grips Will by the hips. He pushes himself up and against Will in one motion, slotting their mouths together and pressing Will back into his pillow.

Will hums happily and lets himself be pushed backwards, his hand lax on the side of Santiago’s neck, fingernails lazily raking through the curls at his nape. His other hand comes up and settles high on Santiago’s thigh, where he’s kneeling on top of Will. His fingertips ruck up Santiago’s boxers until he rests them right by the crease between thigh and hip, and Santiago is afraid he might hyperventilate for a second.

He leans his forehead on Will’s and just breathes for a moment, eyes shut tightly as he tries to control the blood-flow down, down, down where Will is _almost_ touching him. Swallowing with difficulty, Santiago loosens his grip on Will’s sides and slips his hands underneath the shirt. Tracing the dips and hills of Will’s abdomen, revelling in the feel of silky-smooth skin against his palms, is familiar but still exhilarating.

Will pushes up against Santiago impatiently and sucks his tongue into his mouth, and Santiago’s moan is muffled, luckily, but he can’t help the way his nails dig into Will’s skin at the sensation. He would’ve leaned back and apologised but Will’s breath hitches and Santiago can feel where his stomach is quivering against the press of his fingertips. So, Santiago does it again, lighter this time, controlled, and draws his nails down Will’s sides slowly. Will bucks up reflexively and whines quietly into Santiago’s mouth, who has to clamp his thighs down to not lose his balance.

“Pope”, Will insists, barely more than a whisper and almost pleading now. His hand by Santiago’s neck fists in the collar of his shirt and starts pulling at it, until Santiago allows him to pull off the offending fabric. Will immediately grabs at him with both hands, taking hold of Santiago and pulling him down, flat on top of Will. But Santiago pushes up again and tugs at Will’s shirt.

“Off”, he says and Will sits up, pushing both of them into an upright position. He pulls his shirt over his head hastily, and immediately goes for Santiago’s jugular, which is right at his eye-level when Santiago is in this elevated position on Will’s thighs.

Santiago has no choice but to hold onto Will’s neck and shoulders and bite his tongue in an effort to keep quiet. The insistent wet-hot pressure where Will has locked his lips underneath Santiago’s jaw makes it hard, though, and when Will gently presses his teeth into the soft skin, a high noise rises in the back of his throat. Instinctively, he grinds his hips down and into Will, and Will makes a punched-out sound against his neck.

“Fuck”, Will curses and then the world is spinning until Santiago’s back hits the mattress, their feet tangled hopelessly in the duvet. Will’s hands are still gripping Santiago’s hips, pressing them down, and he’s kneeling between Santiago’s spread legs now, eyes dark and heavy as they take in Santiago greedily. “Can I?”

His thumbs are swiping over Santiago’s hipbones and catching on the waistband of his boxers. Will’s pupils are blown wide, his hair is a mess, and he’s breathless when he repeats: “Can I, Pope? I wanna – “

Santiago is nodding before Will gets around to explain what exactly it is that he wants, and Will immediately hooks his thumbs into Santiago’s waistband and starts pulling them down. Never taking his eyes of Santiago’s, Will leans forward and places a kiss right above Santiago’s bellybutton, making his breath stutter in his chest. He’s not sure what Will plans to do exactly, but he’s quite literally holding his breath to find out.

Will sucks kisses down Santiago’s abdomen and settles on the jut of his hipbone, right above his thumb hooked into the fabric. As he pulls the waistband down, Will trails right after it with his mouth until his tongue dips into the crease between thigh and groin, and that’s when Santiago has to bite down on his thumb-knuckle to stifle an outright moan.

Cool air brushes him where his cock is resting against his lower abdomen, heavy and swollen, and a jolt goes through Santiago’s entire body when Will’s chin grazes the already weeping head. “ _Will_ …”

Will pulls Santiago’s boxers fully down his thighs now and wraps his fingers around Santiago, lifts him up gently. Usually his contemplating, thoughtful stare would make Santiago self-conscious and uneasy, but at the moment he is too preoccupied with the realisation, that this is the first time Will has touched him _there_ without any layer of clothes in between.

When Will starts squeezing him gently and taking up a slow rhythm, Santiago has to close his eyes for a second. Blindly he reaches out, fingers searching and finding something to hold onto as the hand he isn’t biting grabs at Will’s shoulders and neck. He chokes on his own breath when Will starts first nosing the sensitive skin between groin and thigh, then sucking kisses into it. Will has one of Santiago’s legs pinned underneath him, which is probably a good thing because Santiago would otherwise have clamped his thighs around Will’s head by now.

He tries to swallow down those embarrassing high noises that keep rising up in this throat at the soft-rough pressure of Will’s hand around his length and the heat of Will’s breath stroking over the skin at the base, and has to fight to open his eyes again. When he looks down, he barely has time to make out Will’s silhouette against the dark of the room, before he notices the aborted motion of Will’s hips. Will is grinding against his leg, Santiago realises, watching the shallow thrusts Will himself is probably unaware of, with wide eyes. Then Will suddenly presses his lips to the base of Santiago’s cock and his brain whites out immediately.

It takes Santiago several moments to catch is breath and when he does, Will is right there with him, tugging Santiago's boxers back up and wiping his stomach clean with one of their shirts. His eyes are wide and very dark, Santiago can make out that much even in the darkness of the room, and Will’s hands are trembling a little.

“Hey”, Will says noticing Santiago’s look and smiles lopsidedly. “How’re you feeling?”  
Santiago hasn’t fully recovered apparently, because his brain is completely empty and he doesn’t know how to answer that question. He does notice, however, the hot pressure of Will’s length resting heavily against his hip and still caught in the fabric of Will’s boxers. Reflexively, Santiago pushes into it, turning to his side and towards Will, and Will sucks in a sharp breath.

“Will”, Santiago says grips Will’s hip. This is his fault, Santiago's fault that Will is like this - the thought alone is dizzying.  
Will responds with a shuddering thrust, almost like he’s trying to hold back, and Santiago can see him biting his own tongue. Still a little dazed, Santiago follows his first impulse and dips his chin forward to catch Will’s mouth, while also pulling on Will’s hip to bring him closer. Will’s mouth drops open immediately and he’s not really kissing back so much as he’s panting hot breath into Santiago’s mouth and occasionally catching his lower lip to suck on it. He’s pushing himself against Santiago’s hip in earnest now and his fingernails are digging into Santiago’s arms, so tight is he holding on, but Santiago doesn’t mind. With one hand, he tugs on Will’s boxers and slips his fingers underneath the fabric, skidding around his hip to the front. That’s when Will sort of contracts, a whimper echoing around them even as Will buries his face in Santiago’s neck. Stubble scratching his neck, Santiago’s fingertips graze Will’s wet, velvety soft head, and Will presses his open mouth against Santiago’s throat, muffling a drawn-out moan as liquid heat coats Santiago’s fingers.

Hearts racing they stay like that for what feels like hours. Once their breaths are more or less even again, Will releases his death-grip on Santiago’s arms and rolls onto his back.  
“Fuck”, he mumbles to the ceiling and Santiago can hear he’s still a little out of breath. When he catches Will’s eye, Will flashes him a delirious grin and suddenly Santiago can barely keep from laughing out loud.  
“Shhh, they’ll hear us!”, Will shushes him and clamps his hand over Santiago’s mouth, but he’s only just holding on himself.

Later, after Santiago cleaned his hand with the same t-shirt Will used before, Will strips off his boxers with a grimace. “Ugh.” He cleans up as much as possible, then drops the boxers and soiled shirt by the foot of the bed. For a second he hesitates, then seemingly makes a decision and flops back onto the bed still completely naked. Santiago’s boxers are still mostly clean, so he hands Will the one clean t-shirt left.

They settle back in, somehow giddy and sleepy at the same time. Santiago falls asleep with his back pressed to Will’s front, feet entangled, and warm puffs of Will's breath stroking the back of his head.

 

When he wakes up, it’s to a mouthful of hair, sunlight on his face, and the faint smell of eggs and bacon. Blearily he blinks his eyes open and finds himself curled around Will, one arm draped over Will’s chest, one leg hooked over Will’s, and the blanket pushed down to their knees. With a huff he pulls back a little until his mouth is free and frowns around the room in disorientation.

“Mmmh”, Will says and his forehead crinkles in discontent. Oh.

For a moment Santiago gets lost in the memories of last night rushing in, and suddenly he’s very aware of two facts: he is a teenager who just woke up and Will is incredibly attractive from the discontented pout down to his very naked lower half. Will’s eye-lids begin to flutter and then Santiago becomes aware of a third fact: someone is up and cluttering with pots and pans in the kitchen. Talking. Meaning the _both_ of them are awake.

“Mornin’”, Will mumbles with a voice that’s still sleep-rough and smiles sleepily at Santiago. He looks so soft and warm and comfy that Santiago wants nothing more than to curl up into his side again and stay in bed watching the sunlight wander over the walls hour by hour.

Then there are footsteps coming down the hallway and an ice-bucket of fear rushes down his spine. Panicking, he jumps out of bed and looks around for a place to hide – behind the door? In the closet? Under the bed?  
He’s halfway on the desk, ready to climb out the window again, when there’s a sharp knock on the door and he freezes. Wide-eyed he turns to look at Will, who’s struggled upright, hair a mess, t-shirt wrinkled, and the damn duvet still only by his knees.

“Will?”, Mrs Miller’s voice comes through the door and it sounds suspiciously sweet to Santiago’s ears. Will yanks the duvet up to his chin at the sound of her voice.

“Ye- uhm, yes, Mom?”, Will clears his throat when it comes out as a squeak at first.

“Please tell Santiago he's not allowed to show his face here anymore, if that boy dares sneaking out before eating breakfast.” Her footsteps are retreating before her words register with either of them.

After that, if anything, Santiago is panicking even more but now he doesn’t have an escape route anymore, now he _has to_ face her. His hands are shaking when he strokes over the wrinkles in his shirt for the hundredth time, preparing himself to go outside and have breakfast with Will’s mother. Will grabs his hands and holds them a little too tight, and his smile is more nervous than reassuring, really, but he presses a quick kiss to the corner of Santiago’s mouth. And Santiago can’t resist Will, so he lets himself be tugged down the hallway and into the kitchen with clammy hands and his heart in his throat.

Mrs Miller glances up from her position at the stove and smiles at them before gesturing to the table behind her, where Benny is already sitting. In a weirdly panic-filled daze, Santiago sits down and Benny doesn’t seem the slightest bit surprised to see him, just yawns and gives Will a lazy middle-finger in greeting.

Breakfast is…awkward. Mrs Miller gives them all food and tea and coffee, and she doesn’t say anything about it, doesn’t even ask questions, even though there are a few meaningful glances Santiago catches. She asks if they slept well and says she hopes they didn’t catch a cold, it was snowing last night after all, and Santiago spends the entire breakfast hiding behind a mug or a forkful of scrambled eggs.  
He slowly relaxes when he notices the tension leaving Will and is therefore completely unprepared when they’re washing up after Benny left the kitchen. Mrs Miller asks: “I hope it’s not really necessary to bring this up, but you’re being safe, yeah?”  
Mortified, Santiago can feel his face heating up and a soapy plate slips through his fingers and shatters on the floor. While he cleans up the mess, Will argues with his mother what is and is not appropriate to talk about during breakfast (“It’s a fair question” – “No, it’s not!” – “No need to be embarrassed about these – “ “I am _not_!” – “I know you can’t get pregnant, but still – “ “Oh my God, _Mom_! Stop!”). 

They’re both blushing too hard to do much more than laugh nervously at each other, when they retreat into Will’s room, but all in all Santiago counts this as a success.

They’re talking about how they’re going to spend New Years Eve, when the phone rings in the hallway and Will grows quiet, listening intently as Mrs Miller answers the phone.  
Santiago can make out a subdued “thank you” and follows Will, when he slowly gets up and opens the door to the hallway. That’s where Santiago stops and watches Will disappear into the hallway, walking slowly but with barely restrained rage.  
“Merry Christmas to you, too”, says Mrs Miller quietly. Santiago can’t see her, but he imagines her face as white as a sheet judging from the tone of her voice.  
There’s a clattering sound.  
“I told you to leave us alone.” Will’s voice is tight with anger, then another, much louder clattering sound as the receiver is slammed into the wall with force.

When Santiago leaves barely half an hour later, Mrs Miller is sitting in the living room with Benny’s head in her lap and a book in her hand. She’s pale, but probably not as pale as she was during that call, and she smiles warm and gentle when Santiago says his good-bye and thanks her for breakfast. Remnants of tension are still caught around Will’s eyes when he walks Santiago home, but he shakes his head apologetically at Santiago’s questioning glance. So Santiago doesn’t ask and Will kisses him deep and a little desperate before they part ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Plans and Fantasies.


End file.
